


I Want You

by cassanova33



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:09:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassanova33/pseuds/cassanova33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU. New neighbors, mysterious pasts, and sexual tension. Oh, and there's a dog. What more could you want?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A box under each arm, Cara Mason trudged into her house and booted the door closed behind her. She let the boxes drop unceremoniously to the ground, wincing as one produced a loud crash. She looked down at it, glared for a moment, and shrugged. She never liked that lamp anyway.  
  
Kicking off her sneakers, she made her way through the sparsely furnished living room into the slightly more furnished kitchen. It was warm and spacious, as was the rest of the house. With the promotion she just received, she could afford such a place. Unfortunately, that promotion was contingent on relocating, which was why on a day Cara could have been spending on the beach in Sydney, she was unpacking boxes in her new home. On Long Island. Not in a relaxing, secluded Hamptons-like area of Long Island, either. Oh, no. She was in the suburbs. With friendly senior citizens and soccer moms and…  _children_. Cara nearly shuddered at the thought.  
  
Still, she was close enough to the city to go into the office when they needed her and far enough away to avoid it when she’d rather not deal with people. Which, truth be told, was most of the time. It wasn’t that Cara was antisocial… no, actually, that’s what it was exactly. But in her line of work, a friendly disposition wasn’t a job requirement. Ruthlessness, cunning, sex appeal. Now those qualities were advantageous. And Cara possessed them all.  
  
She pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and drank half of it in three long gulps. She’d wanted to make moving in a one-day event, figuring if she started at sunup she would be finished in time for lunch. Little did she know how much crap she owned. Her clothing alone had taken nearly two hours to unpack. It was now close to six, the sky just beginning to turn a light shade of purple, and Cara was exhausted. Not to mention famished. She thought she might order a pizza. It would help, she realized, if she knew if there were even any pizzerias nearby. She drained the rest of her water and frowned.  
  
This place was getting on her nerves already.  
  
Well, if she couldn’t procure some dinner for herself, she might as well feed… wait. Where was he? She made a quick round of the ground floor. Nothing. Her frown deepened. Where had that bastard gone? She pulled on her sneakers and went out onto her front lawn.  There was a sharp chill in the air, made even more prominent seeing as she wasn’t wearing much: a thin white tank and cut-off denim shorts. A soft breeze played at the few strands of blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail as her eyes grazed the area, up and down the street, searching. A loud bark came from her right, and she snapped her head towards the sound. A high row of bushes obscured her view of the lawn next door. She walked around them and found just what she had been looking for.  
  
On his back in the grass was her housemate, a shaggy German Shepherd, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he panted happily. Typical. What Cara hadn’t been expecting was the woman currently rubbing his tummy. Long raven tresses obscured her face as she knelt beside the dog, a light laugh bubbling out from behind the curtain. It froze Cara in her tracks. She had never heard a laugh quite like that. Breathy and carefree, it was a laugh that would put a smile on anyone’s face.  
  
Well, anyone besides Cara Mason.  
  
Shaking herself from her momentary daze, Cara pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and let out a short, sharp whistle. Two heads jerked up at the sound. The dog rolled back over and trotted to his owner dutifully, nuzzling her leg. Cara took no notice. Her gaze was locked onto the other woman, who hooked her purse over her shoulder and stood up with a smile that would put the sun to shame. She was tall, her body spectacular from what Cara could tell through her tight gray slacks and matching blazer. The light pink blouse underneath was cut low, showing no small amount of what Cara was sure was the most magnificent cleavage to ever grace God’s green earth. But what threw her were the eyes. She didn’t know eyes could be such a pure, piercing shade of blue. They nearly took her breath away. Nearly. Cara Mason was not so easily flustered.  
  
“He’s adorable,” the other woman said, her smile widening.  
  
Cara looked down at her pet, currently lounging on the ground before her, chin propped up on her left foot as if it were a pillow. She glared. When she had rescued him from a shelter in Cronulla, she had expected a ferocious guard dog, one she could trust to keep her apartment safe from robbers and murderers while she slept. The one she got would more likely greet them at the door with a wagging tail and a few licks to the face.  
  
“You just moved in next door?” Cara’s eyes rose back up at the question.  
  
 _Well, obviously,_  she thought, though she refrained from voicing the acerbic remark. She had promised herself she wouldn’t be rude to her new neighbors. At least not on the first day. She settled for a nod. The brunette took two long strides forward and extended her hand.  
  
“I’m Kahlan. Kahlan Amnell.” Cara eyed the hand warily before taking it in her own and giving it a firm shake.  
  
“Cara Mason,” she offered.  
  
“Oh, you’re from Australia?”  
  
Cara raised an eyebrow. She was bright, this one.  
  
“Sorry,” Kahlan laughed that breathy laugh again and smacked a hand to her forehead. “Stupid question.”  
  
 _Your words._  
  
“Do you need any help?” Kahlan offered. “I could change real quick and…”  
  
She stopped, only now noticing the blonde’s attire.  
  
“You must be freezing.”  
  
“I wasn’t expecting it to be so cold this time of year,” Cara muttered.  
  
“But it’s November,” Kahlan said before laughing once more. “Right. Southern hemisphere. It would have been summer for you.”  
  
“Hm,” Cara replied. “And no, thanks.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I don’t need help. I just finished, actually.”  
  
“Oh, right.” Kahlan watched as Cara shook her foot free and began making her way back to her own property, pet in tow. “Well, if you need anything.”  
  
The blonde gave a wave of her hand, not bothering to turn around.  
  
“Cara,” Kahlan called.  
  
At that, she did turn, and raised an eyebrow in question.  
  
“What’s his name?” Kahlan asked.  
  
“Dog.”  
  
“You…” Kahlan’s face went from confused to amused in seconds. “You named him Dog?”  
  
Cara gave her an incredulous stare. “What else would I call him?”  
  
“No, that’s very practical.” Kahlan waved. “Bye, Dog.”  
  
Cara watched as the woman turned and hopped up her front steps, the sway of her hips spellbinding. Something, and she hadn’t the faintest idea what, possessed her to stop the brunette from leaving.  
  
“Hey,” she called out. Kahlan spun around, halfway through her door.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
 _Crap._  Cara hadn’t thought that far ahead.  _Say something. She’s going to think you’re an idiot._  
  
“Do you know if there’s a pizzeria around here?”  _Smooth, Cara._  
  
Kahlan laughed. “It’s New York. There are two on every corner.”  
  
“Huh,” the blonde murmured. “Could I get the number of one?”  
  
Kahlan pursed her lips as if in thought.  
  
“Tell you what. I’m gonna change, call up Umberto’s, and we can talk over a pie. Get to know each other.”  
  
“Er…”  
  
“You like Sicilian?”  
  
“I—”  
  
“Great. I’ll be over in twenty.”  
  
With that, Kahlan disappeared into her house. Cara stared at the door for a moment, trying to figure out what just happened. She went out to find her dog and came back with a dinner guest. She glared at the aforementioned animal.  
  
“This is all your fault.”  
  
He cocked his head, tongue hanging out of one side of his mouth. She rolled her eyes and marched back to her house, Dog bounding alongside his master, oblivious as always.  
  


—

  
Kahlan leaned against her door, horrified. What was she thinking? She had met this woman for all of five minutes and already invited herself over for dinner at her place for a night of pizza and neighborly camaraderie.  
  
 _Who does that?_  She scolded herself.  
  
Granted, Kahlan had always been outgoing, the first to suggest grabbing lunch or getting a drink after work. That being said, she usually got to know the person beforehand.  
  
She called in the order before running upstairs, slipping out of her work clothes and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. What was it about that woman that made her act so strangely? Sure, she was beautiful. Alright, so she was hands down the most gorgeous creature that Kahlan had ever seen. That honey blonde hair, those sea-green eyes, those impossibly full lips. Not to mention the golden tan that covered her sculpted arms and thighs.  
  
“God _,_ ” Kahlan groaned as she pulled a brush through her hair. “Those perfect thighs.”  
  
She slammed the brush down, putting a stop to those thoughts immediately. She was not going to think about Cara’s thighs, no matter how badly she wanted to sink her teeth into—  
  
 _No! Bad Kahlan!_  
  
She shook her head as if to shake the image from her mind. There would be no fantasizing about her new neighbor. Her incredibly hot, accent having, shorts wearing, and probably  _straight_  neighbor.  
  
Kahlan sighed. They were always straight.  
  
Sitting on the edge of her bed, she managed to steer her thoughts away from Cara’s numerous physical endowments. She instead focused on the impending task of having to make conversation. The blonde, as far as Kahlan could tell, was a woman of few words. She tried to come up with a couple of things to talk about. She was still drawing a blank when her doorbell rang.  
  


—

  
Cara took a greedy drag from the cigarette burning between her fingers and checked her watch for the umpteenth time. It had been eighteen minutes. Only one more minute since the last time she checked. She blew the smoke out in an exasperated huff and snubbed out the cigarette. Dog had his head in her lap, napping contentedly with a full belly and taking up most of the couch. She gave him a quick couple of scratches between the ears. He may be a bit of an idiot, but he was her idiot, and as much as she was loath to admit it, she had a soft spot for the animal.  
  
Still, he had gotten into her this predicament. Cara wasn’t the type to share a meal with anyone unless it ended with them between her legs. Frankly, she didn’t see the point. Why bother with the mindless small talk and exchange of niceties if you didn’t get to reap the benefits? And with Kahlan Amnell, Cara knew she would be reaping no benefits. A woman like her, with that radiant smile, those penetrating eyes, that long, luscious hair made to drag your fingers through at the height of passion. It was too good to be true. She was positively, undeniably straight.  
  
They were always straight.  
  
As it were, this left Cara to suffer through a night of idle chatter and sexual frustration. How long had it been since she even had someone in her bed? The fact that she couldn’t remember was annoying. It must have been about a year by now. Not since  _her._  Cara scowled at the thought of her ex. Those were memories she’d rather keep locked up, tightly sealed away in the farthest corner of her mind. Whenever the woman did end up sneaking her way into her thoughts, Cara felt a tightening in her chest that made her want to bang her head into a wall until she fell unconscious. It had been her first relationship, her first real one, at least. It had been a mistake. Letting people into your heart, Cara knew now, did nothing but give them license to rip it to shreds.  
  
The doorbell rang then, and the head she had been scratching sprang up. With an excited bark, Dog bounded from the couch and to the origin of the noise. Cara had to nudge him to the side to open the door, on the other side of which stood Kahlan with a pizza box and a grin.  
  
“Hi,” she greeted the blonde, who gave her a nod and let her inside, taking the food off of her hands. Once free of the burden, Kahlan dropped to a knee and ruffled Dog’s fur. “Hey, buddy!”  
  
“Kitchen’s through here,” Cara called over her shoulder as she made her way into the room.  
  
Kahlan followed her, taking in the house as she went, not that there was much to take in: a leather couch and matching chair, a small coffee table. The walls were white and unadorned. Against the staircase wall was another long table with a few pictures. Kahlan’s gaze halted on one in particular: Cara and some woman standing side by side on a beach, the former in a red bikini that could only be described as salacious. Her eyes were glued to the long, flat expanse of abs between the two meager pieces of cloth.  
  
 _It would take an eternity to lick from her hips to her—_  
  
“That’s my sister Grace.”  
  
Kahlan jumped and turned to see Cara leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. She closed her mouth, just then realizing it had been hanging open, and made her way sheepishly into the kitchen.  
  
“I see the resemblance.”  
  
Cara got two plates from a box sitting on the island and nodded towards the fridge.  
  
“Mind grabbing drinks?” she said as she set the table.  
  
Kahlan nodded and opened the appliance. She had to stifle a laugh at the contents. It appeared Cara hadn’t had time to buy groceries, but managed to make her way over to the liquor store. At least she had good taste. She reached between two tall bottles of Grey Goose and pulled out a pair of Heinekens.  
  
“Beers okay?”  
  
The blonde hummed her acceptance and the two sat across from one another at the table. Kahlan’s ass barely hit the seat before Dog was at her side, his tail wagging eagerly.  
  
“Oh, no.” Cara pointed towards the living room. “You just ate, you insatiable bastard. Out.”  
  
Kahlan watched him go with a laugh and opened up the pizza box, giving a slice to the blonde before taking one for herself.  
  
“He’s very obedient.”  
  
“When it suits him,” Cara said taking a bite. “Oh my God.”  
  
“What?” Kahlan stopped with her slice halfway raised. “You don’t like it?”  
  
“Like it? This is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”  
  
 _I’m sure I could give you something better to put in your— Damn it, Kahlan!_  
  
“Good,” she said, hoping Cara wouldn’t notice the rasp in her voice, before diving in herself. “So…”  
  
She racked her brain for something to say. Anything. Cara raised a brow expectantly.  
  
“Where are you from?” she blurted out finally. “I mean I know you’re from Australia. It’s pretty big, though, so just Australia must be kind of vague. Like me saying I’m from America. I am, but, I’m from New York and that’s, you know… less vague.”  
  
Cara’s lip twitched into a hint of a smile as the brunette finished and grabbed her beer, taking a large swig. She was oddly endearing, this Kahlan Amnell. Cara made the decision there and then to at least try and be a gracious host. A bit of conversation wouldn’t kill her, after all.  
  
“I grew up around Sydney.”  
  
“What’s it like?”  
  
“Your typical city, I suppose. Tall buildings and lots of people. Not quite the barren wasteland people think of when it comes to Australia.”  
  
“So I’m guessing you didn’t have a pet kangaroo and wrestle crocodiles?” Kahlan teased.  
  
“Not quite,” Cara said. “Though I was chased by a dingo once.”  
  
“You’re kidding!”  
  
“Deadset. I traveled a bit when I was in uni. Had my adventurous years then, explored the Bush a bit.”  
  
Kahlan choked on her drink.  
  
“What?” she sputtered.  
  
“The Bush. You know, the Outback? Big dessert?”  
  
 _Get your mind out of the gutter,_ Kahlan chastised herself.  
  
“Right.” Her pale cheeks took on a furious shade of pink as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. “So why move here?”  
  
“Had to for work,” Cara told her.  
  
“What do you do?”  
  
“I’m with the Rahl Organization.  We just opened a branch in New York and I was chosen to head the team in charge of acquisitions.” It was only half a lie, Cara mused.  
  
“Wow. You must be really smart.”  
  
“You’re one to talk.” Cara pointed at the brunette’s chest.  
  
“Huh?” She looked down to her faded Columbia t-shirt. “Oh. I suppose.”  
  
“Let me guess. Social worker?”  
  
“Detective, actually.”  
  
“Huh,” Cara murmured.  _That could be a problem._  
  
“I was prelaw at first, but I knew after a while it wasn’t for me. I wanted to do something worthwhile, to help people. So I joined the academy and here I am. Putting away the bad guys and hopefully making the city a bit safer.”  
  
“Trying to save the world one case at a time?” Cara quipped, and Kahlan laughed.  
  
“Something like that,” she admitted. “So, do you know anyone here in the States?”  
  
“A few coworkers moved too. They’re all in their penthouse apartments on the Upper West Side.”  
  
“Why aren’t you?” Kahlan asked before thinking. “Not that you’re not welcome here. It’s just, you don’t see that many young single women buying houses in the suburbs.”  
  
Kahlan hoped the blonde wouldn’t notice her roundabout way of asking if she had a significant other. Much to her chagrin…  
  
“What makes you think I’m single?”  
  
“Sorry,” Kahlan near stuttered. “I didn’t mean to assume. I should have known someone like you would—“  
  
“Someone like me?”  
  
“I didn’t mean someone like you, I meant…” Kahlan tried to back peddle, at a loss for what to say.  
  
Cara smirked. Watching the brunette squirm was proving to be more entertaining than she would have thought. Kahlan caught the twitch of her lip.  
  
“You’re messing with me.”  
  
“It’s not that hard,” Cara said in her defense. “As for why I, a young single woman, bought a house in the suburbs… Well, I figured it was about time Dog had a backyard to run around in.”  
  
Kahlan promptly ignored the way her heart skipped a beat at hearing the word single.  
  
“What’s your excuse?” The blonde asked. “Or have you got a husband and two ankle biters waiting for you next door?”  
  
“Hardly,” Kahlan huffed out with a laugh. “It was my parents’ house. They left it to my sister and me when they died. Well, my dad did. Mom died when I was really young.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Cara said and quickly tried to change the subject. Feelings weren’t exactly her strong suit. Unable to come up with anything else to say, she asked Kahlan if she was finished, and after receiving a nod, gathered their plates to throw in the dishwasher. Kahlan couldn’t help but steal a glance at the blonde’s backside as she bent over the appliance.  
  
 _Damn._  
  
Cara grabbed another round of beers from the fridge and motioned for Kahlan to join her in the living room. Upon seeing them enter, Dog let out a happy bark and began wagging his tail, issuing a steady  _thunk_   _thunk thunk_ as it smacked the leather beneath him.  
  
“Off,” Cara ordered, and he acquiesced immediately, only to jump on the chair beside it. Cara sighed, but didn’t bother reprimanding him again as she and Kahlan relaxed onto the couch.  
  
“You don’t have a TV,” Kahlan observed.  
  
“I’ve always been more of a reader,” Cara said with a shrug.  
  
“You have a favorite author?”  
  
Cara thought about it. “I don’t know how to say this without coming off as pretentious, but I do love Faulker, and Orwell, and the Bronte sisters. Though I’ve always had a soft spot for Wells and Verne. You?”  
  
“Wow,” Kahlan breathed, blushing a bit. “I’m nowhere near as well read. I really like… No, you’ll laugh at me.”  
  
“Well now you have to tell me,” Cara said with a smirk. “Oh, come on. I won’t laugh, alright?”  
  
The brunette sighed, cheeks growing redder, and mumbled something under her breath.  
  
“Didn’t quite catch that.”  
  
“Agatha Christie. I’ve been reading her since I was a kid. Probably part of the reason I became a detective, really.”  
  
Cara let out a short chuckle.  
  
Kahlan barely had time to admire the sultry sound before she remembered to be offended. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”  
  
“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just… I must have read  _The Mirror Crack’d_  a dozen times. It’s one of my absolute favorites.”  
  
“Really?” Kahlan broke out into a wide grin. “Mine too.”  
  
 _That damned smile._  Cara found herself lost in the sight once again. She knew she was staring, but she couldn’t care less. All she could think in that moment was what it would be like to lean forward and pull Kahlan into her. Would the smile broaden? Would it disappear with a gasp of surprise? Or a snarl of anger at her unwanted advances? Her eyes flicked up towards Kahlan’s.  
  
The brunette couldn’t read the other woman’s expression. That was odd; she was gifted, actually, in doing just that. She thought she saw a flicker of something in Cara’s eyes, though it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Kahlan could only guess as to what it had been. Hunger, maybe? But no, that was probably just wishful thinking, her projecting her intense desire to rush forward and capture those full red lips with her own.  
  
A silence settled between the women as they looked at one another, breaths low and shallow, bodies humming with energy yearning to be released. How long they sat like that neither of them knew. It could have been seconds; it could have been forever.  
  
Kahlan had just gotten up the courage to speak when Cara’s phone rang. The sound broke Cara from her reverie and she pulled it from her pocket. Seeing the name on the Caller ID, she scowled, before looking to Kahlan apologetically.  
  
“It’s work,” she told her. “I’ll just be a second.”  
  
“Sure,” Kahlan said.  
  
Cara took the phone into the kitchen before sliding her thumb across the screen to accept the call.  
  
“Denna,” she all but growled.  
  
“Well, someone’s grumpy,” the answer came.  
  
Denna was one of the “coworkers” Cara had mentioned to Kahlan that had moved with her from back home. She, Cara, and the other two women, Berdine and Raina, had worked together for years. They made a merciless team, having quickly climbed the ladder at the Rahl Organization, leaving behind a trail of bodies and gaining a chilling reputation. No one could contend with the Mord’Sith, and no one dared try. The women had formed a close bond over the years, what Cara thought other people might consider to be friendship, or at least as close to friendship as her line of work allowed. Still, she couldn’t help but cringe every time one of them gave her a call.  
  
“What do you want?” Cara asked, hoping the other woman would simply inquire as to how the move-in went and leave it at that. Her hopes were soon dashed.  
  
“I’m bored,” Denna whined. Cara could practically hear her pouting through the phone.  
  
“Then call Berdine and Raina.”  
  
“They’re not answering. Probably too busy christening their new apartment.”  
  
“Thank you for that image.”  
  
“Cara, I’m bored,” she repeated.  
  
“What am I supposed to do about it?”  
  
“Come into the city,” Denna offered. “We could go to a bar, find ourselves some unsuspecting Seppos and lure them into our trap with our accents and short skirts.”  
  
“Do you always refer to your genitalia as a trap?”  
  
“Oh, shut up. Come on, it’ll be fun.”  
  
“I’m sure,” Cara drawled, “but I can’t.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
Cara hesitated. Knowing Denna, telling her that she had a dinner guest would lead to a million questions and hours of subsequent mockery. But it was the only excuse she had.  
  
“I have company.” There was silence following her exclamation and Cara had to check the phone to make sure the call hadn’t been dropped.  
  
“You have what?” Denna finally asked.  
  
“Company. As in someone in my house.”  
  
“I know what company is, arse. Who is it?”  
  
“Denna,” Cara groaned.  
  
“Oh my God,” the other woman leered. “It’s a girl, isn’t it? You slut! You’ve been there less than a day and you’ve already got a woman in your bed?”  
  
“She’s my neighbor.”  
  
“Sure.” Denna dragged out the word, making her disbelief evident. “Well, I won’t keep you, then. But you owe me a night out.”  
  
“I owe you nothing.”  
  
“Lies. Now get on back to your company. Go and…”  
  
After a few moments of silence, Cara prodded, “And?”  
  
“I don’t know. I’m trying to think of a neighbor pun. Something about lending her a cup of sugar.”  
  
Cara didn’t dignify that with a response, choosing instead to simply hang up. She went back into the living room to find Kahlan pulling on her jacket.  
  
“You’re leaving?”  
  
“It’s getting late,” Kahlan explained lamely. “And I have to get to the station early tomorrow.”  
  
“Of course,” Cara said.  
  
“I had a really great time tonight.”  
  
Cara hummed her agreement.  
  
“Maybe we could do it again some time?” the brunette asked, trying to keep her voice even as not to betray her excitement at the thought.  
  
Cara wavered. The night had been, much to her surprise, enjoyable. It had been so long since she had engaged in honest— or at least semi-honest— conversation with anyone. Too long to remember. But she knew this was dangerous territory. To say she was attracted to the woman before her would be an understatement. The pull she felt, the voracious need Kahlan stirred inside of her, was frightening. Or it would have been, if Cara Mason were capable of such an emotion. And to make matters worse, she was a detective. It was her job to hunt down and put to justice people like Cara. Interacting with her anymore, in any way, would be unwise. It wasn’t worth the risk. She knew she had to put an end to things right there and then.  
  
Therefore, it surprised Cara when she heard herself say, “I would like that.”  
  
The smile Kahlan gave her was enough to stop her from being concerned at the consequences in that moment. Continuing whatever it was that they had begun that night could prove disastrous. But if she could only keep seeing that smile, Cara thought, she would take that gamble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cara gets a new assignment, and an interesting offer.

The bullpen at the 19th Precinct was abuzz with ringing phones, idle chatter, and the occasional shuffle of papers. Kahlan’s eyes skimmed lazily over the report propped up on her desk, though she didn’t take in a single word. Her mind was decidedly elsewhere, replaying the events of the night before over and again. There was one moment in particular she couldn’t stop thinking about. The moment she had almost lost control. The moment she had almost pounced on Cara and taken her right then and there on the couch. But then the phone rang, and the moment was over.  
  
It was probably for the best, Kahlan figured. No doubt Cara would have spurned her advances, and that would have done wonders for their neighborly relationship. This way, they could be friends. Cara never had to find out how incredibly badly Kahlan wanted to have her way with her. She just had to keep herself in check. No more flirting, no more fantasizing, and definitely no more ogling.  
  
 _Piece of cake_. Kahlan nodded to herself decisively, then frowned.  _Who the hell am I kidding?_  
  
Lost in such thoughts, she didn’t notice her partner calling her name until he plucked the file from her hands.            
  
“Hey!” Kahlan protested, grabbing at the manila folder as he waved it over his head. “Give it back, Richard.  
  
“Why?” he asked with a grin. “You weren’t even reading it.”  
  
“Was to.”  
  
“Oh yeah? What did it say?”  
  
“Someone… died.”  
  
“Uh huh,” he said, not having it.  
  
Kahlan gave up and frowned. “Fine, I wasn’t reading it.”  
  
Richard tossed the file back onto her desk with a laugh and took his seat across from her.  
  
“So,” he said leaning back in his chair, “who is she?”  
  
“What?” Kahlan blanched. “Who’s who?”  
  
“Oh, c’mon. You’ve got that dreamy look you get every time you meet someone you like. So fess up, who is she?”  
  
Kahlan groaned. She’d known Richard too long to bother denying it; he knew her too well. They’d met at the academy years before. At first, Kahlan had hated him, with his puppy dog eyes, his ever-present enthusiasm, and his annoying habit of always leaving one too many buttons of his shirt undone. A habit that he had yet to break. But after a while, she had come to love the man like a brother. In a world like theirs, full of liars, thieves, rapists, and murderers, Richard Cypher always chose to seek the good in people. Not even the four years they had spent working Robbery Homicide had killed his bold optimism.  
  
“Her name is Cara,” Kahlan finally admitted. “She’s my new neighbor.”  
  
“Ooooh.” Richard waggled his eyebrows. “Girl next door. Hot.”  
  
“It’s not like that,” she insisted. “We only had dinner together, got to know each other.”  
  
“I’m sure you did,” he said with a wink.  
  
“Stop it,” Kahlan warned him, though her smile betrayed her tone. “We’re just friends. Really.”  
  
“If you say so.”  
  
“I say so. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.”  
  
Kahlan turned her attention back to the file, though she doubted Richard would let her leave it at that. He was far too curious for his own good. She skimmed the first few pages, taking in the details of the case, waiting for the tirade of questions to begin. She didn’t have to wait long.  
  
“Where’d you eat?”  
  
Kahlan sighed and discarded the file. At this rate, the case would never get solved.  
  
“At her place.”  
  
“Spending the night already?” he teased. At seeing Kahlan’s scowl, he added, “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. No more jokes. But really, what’d you two do?”  
  
"We talked.”  
  
“About what?”  
  
“Things.”  
  
“What’s she like?”  
  
“She’s…” Kahlan was about to give another short answer when she broke out into a smile. “She’s quiet. Not shy, though, reserved. She’s smart. Funny, but without really trying. She’s… she’s something else, Richard. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like her.”  
  
Seeing how Kahlan’s face lit up, Richard could only shake his head. His partner had it bad. “Sounds like a helluva friend.”  
  
“Yeah,” Kahlan agreed, still beaming.  
  
“When do I get to meet her?”  
  
“Meet her?” Kahlan balked. “Why would you want to do that?”  
  
“Kahlan, I haven’t seen you smile like that in the longest time,” Richard said in earnest. “I have got to meet this woman.”  
  
“I don’t think—“  
  
“You have her number?”  
  
“We exchanged them last night, but—“  
  
“Text her and invite her to the bar Friday,” Richard interrupted.  
  
“She’s not gonna want to hang out at a cop bar, Richard,” Kahlan scoffed.  
  
“How do you know if you don’t ask her?” he countered.  
  
“I don’t even know her that well.” She tried another tactic.  
  
“Exactly,” Richard agreed. “It would be a great opportunity for you two to get better acquainted.”  
  
“Richard—“  
  
“Invite her out or I will.”  
  
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, fine,” she groaned. “But I swear, Cypher, if you try to play matchmaker again—“  
  
Kahlan’s threat was cut short as a rough voice barked out, “Amnell!”  
  
She gave Richard a warning glare before swiveling her chair towards the speaker. Captain Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander, or Zedd, as he liked to be called, stood in the doorway of his office wearing his usual pressed brown suit, his long white hair pulled back in a ponytail. He was an eccentric man, truth be told, but he had spent nearly forty years on the force, making him a more than worthy boss. He also happened to be Richard’s grandfather.  
  
“Yeah, Cap?” Kahlan said.  
  
“Vice has a perp in Interrogation 3,” he told her. “They’re asking for the Mother Confessor.”  
  
Kahlan rolled her eyes, but nodded her assent. She had gained the nickname of Mother Confessor back when she was a rookie. Though she thought it a bit whimsical, she had to admit, the name fit. When she was in interrogation, no matter the crime, no matter the criminal, she got the confession. Her record was flawless. Some of her colleagues said she was psychic; others accused her of using her feminine wiles to get the truth out of people. Zedd had once claimed, after she wrangled a statement out of a particularly tightlipped gangbanger, that it was all the work of “powerful magic.” Truthfully, she was just incredibly perceptive. While the twitch of the lip or blink of an eye meant nothing to others, it told her everything. And no matter what the other cops thought of Detective Kahlan Amnell, they always came running when they needed her powers of confession.  
  
She walked into the observation room to the smiling face of Detective Dane, a tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy blonde hair and permanent five o’clock shadow.  
  
“Hey, Amnell,” he greeted her warmly. They had worked a few cases together, and while Kahlan wouldn’t say they were friends exactly, they had always gotten along well enough.  
  
“What’ve you got for me, Leo?” She peered through the two-way mirror into the interrogation room. On the other side, sitting at one end of a small steel table, was a weaselly looking man in a tacky yellow tracksuit, a smug look plastered on his face. He was on the pudgy side, nearly every one of his fingers sporting a thick, golden ring. Kahlan figured that the man had probably never worked a day in his life.  
  
“Real scumbag,” Leo said with a scowl. “Goes by Prince Fyren. He’s with the Keltons. Small gang, but they’ve been pushing some bad blow over the past few weeks. Six dead so far.”  
  
“Got anything on him?” she asked.  
  
“Nothing that’ll stick.” Leo sighed. “Evidence is circumstantial at best. Few partials that match his prints and an iffy statement from a longtime junkie. Without a confession, he’s gonna walk.”  
  
Kahlan nodded. “Give me ten minutes.”  
  
She was out in five. Leo met her at the door, peering over her shoulder at the now bawling Prince Fyren. He let out a long whistle.  
  
“I’ll be damned,” he said, giving her a slap on the shoulder. “That’s got to be a record, even for you.”  
  
“Just doing my job, Dane,” Kahlan replied with a wink and made her way back to the bullpen. She had taken three steps into the room when her coat came flying towards her, hitting her square in the face.  
  
“We’ve got a stiff,” Richard said, pulling on his own jacket. “71st and Lex.”  
  
“Just lemme grab my phone,” she said, moving towards her desk. She stopped short when Richard handed it to her.  
  
“Why did you have it?”  
  
“No reason,” he told her, grinning like a five year old.  
  
“You didn’t.”  
  
“Didn’t what?” he asked innocently, though his smile grew. Kahlan started checking her phone.  
  
“Richard Cypher, I swear to God if you—“ She stopped and groaned. “Oh, fucking hell.”  
  
Her last sent text was to Cara Mason.

—

  
Downtown, Cara entered a tall Art Deco building on Broadway and 5th, not at all happy to be there. Her respite from the office had lasted a staggering one day. Apparently, the Lord Rahl had a job for her already. Cara had been under the impression that being Rahl’s new favored Mord’Sith would let her delegate her responsibilities, allowing her to work from home until she was needed in the field. It seemed she was mistaken.  
  
Cara made her way through the large, empty lobby, the heels of her Louboutin’s clicking loudly against the polished marble floors, echoing. She passed the desk, not bothering to glance at the ridiculously muscular man that sat behind it. He was Dragon Corp, a member of Rahl’s elite guard. He was beneath her. She walked down a long hallway, passing elevators on either side, before getting into the one at the very end. Above the floor buttons sat a small screen. Cara placed her thumb to the screen, allowing it to scan her print before pressing the button for the top floor.  
  
The office, she noticed upon arriving eighteen stories up, was the same as it had been back home: white from floor to ceiling, with two long rows of desks leading to a tall set of blood red double doors. The workers came to a dead stop as she strutted between the rows towards the doors, rising from their desks, bowing their heads and offering “Mistress” in whispered greeting. She paid them no mind.  
  
She pushed the doors open and walked into the briefing room: a circular room, again all white, the far wall sporting a large screen. Cara descended a wide set of stairs leading to the center where her Sisters sat waiting for her at a long black table.  
  
Berdine and Raina were in their own little world as always, hands intertwined, whispering the Mord’Sith equivalent of sweet nothings into one another’s ears. Denna sat opposite them, her feet propped up on the table, idly cleaning her nails with her Agiel: the wicked looking tactical knife that all Mord’Sith lived, and most died, by.  
  
“Denna,” Cara said, smacking to woman’s feet off of the table before taking her seat at the head, “the Agiel is a weapon, not a beauty product.”  
  
Denna glowered at her, but slipped the knife into the sheath in her boot nonetheless.  
  
“Nice of you to join us, boss” Berdine said as she turned towards Cara, flicking her amber braid over her shoulder.  
  
“Thought we were going to have to work this one without you.”  
  
“Yes, that would have been a pity,” Raina chimed in.  
  
Cara narrowed her eyes at the couple, but didn’t reprimand them for their cheeky remarks. She was their leader now, it was true, but they were still Sisters. They had been trained together, broken together, born together. The bond they had formed in the wake of that could never be severed. Berdine, Raina, and Denna were her family in everything but blood. As it were, Cara allowed for a certain closeness between them, despite her higher standing, and her dislike for closeness in general.  
  
“Tell me,” she said to Berdine, “what is this new job?”  
  
“I’d like to know as well,” Denna added. “Berdine’s refused to tell us a thing until you arrived. Speaking of which, you took your sweet ass time. Your lady friend keep you up late?”  
  
“Lady friend?” Berdine perked up at that. “What lady friend?”  
  
“There is no lady friend,” Cara stated a bit too quickly.  
  
“Oh, no?” Denna prompted. “So the woman you had dinner with last night?”  
  
“The what she had what with?” Raina asked, disbelieving.  
  
“You heard me,” Denna said. “I invited her out last night, since you two were too busy fucking to pick up the phone, but she had  _company_.”  
  
“Company…” the couple echoed, turning to Cara with questioning looks.  
  
“Enough,” the blonde growled. “We aren’t here to discuss my personal life. Just tell me about the job so I can go back home.”  
  
“Back to your lady friend,” Berdine quipped, earning a sharp glare and a kick from Cara. “Ow! Sorry, sorry, Jesus.”  
  
Picking up the tablet in front of her, Berdine turned towards the screen at the far wall and cued up the briefing. A picture appeared on the screen showing an old tattered set of papers.  
  
“As you know,” she began, “Rahl has been having me look through Alric’s journal.”  
  
Cara nodded. A decade or so ago, Darken had come across the written works of his ancestor, Alric Rahl. The man had ruled over the ancient empire of D’Hara some thousand years ago, and it was said he was a great inventor and prophet. Cara didn’t believe in such nonsense, but Darken certainly did. As it were, the texts were all written in Ancient D’Haran, a dead language that only a handful of people could understand. Berdine was one of those people, and she had been tasked with deciphering Alric’s texts for Rahl. So far, they had proved relatively useful, revealing the resting places of a few priceless artifacts that had financed Rahl’s business. Nothing though, Cara thought, that supported Alric being clairvoyant.  
  
“This entry,” Berdine continued, pointing to the screen, “I was only able to translate last month. As well as being in Ancient D’Haran, it was particularly well encrypted.”  
  
“No other pages had been encrypted,” Cara recalled. “Why this one?”  
  
“Because these pages,” Berdine said, “are about the Stone of Tears.”  
  
She paused then, as if for emphasis. She had assumed such a proclamation would be met with shock and awe. Instead, she received blank looks.  
  
“Really, guys?” Berdine huffed. “Do you ever pay attention in briefings?”  
  
“I pay attention to you, baby,” Raina eased.  
  
“I don’t.” Denna shrugged.  
  
“Maybe you would if you could wrap your mind around anything more complex than torture,” Berdine spat back.  
  
“I’ll have you know my techniques are far more inspired than anything you could ever come up with, book worm,” Denna countered.  
  
“Berdine,” Cara intervened before the women started throwing punches, “the rock?”  
  
The brunette glared at Denna for a moment longer, but nodded and turned back to Cara.  
  
“Stone,” she corrected. “The Stone of Tears is referenced countless times in Alric’s work. Always a bit vaguely. He spoke of an endgame, and apparently this Stone was the key. What that endgame was, and how the Stone of Tears would help, Alric never said directly. At least, he didn’t until now. These pages speak of the creation of the Stone, and its abilities.”  
  
“Abilities?” Cara repeated. “What abilities could a chunk of rock possibly have?”  
  
“That I’ve yet to find out,” Berdine admitted. “Alric was a gifted cryptographer. The cipher is incredibly complicated. I need more time to finish decoding the entire entry.”  
  
“Then why are we here?” Cara asked, quickly becoming impatient.  
  
“I thought you’d never ask.” Berdine swiped her tablet and another image came onto the screen. “This is an archeological dig conducted last September in the land that was once D’Hara. They were looking for useless artifacts: pottery, tapestries, and the like. Instead, they found this.”  
  
Another swipe, and up came a picture of a flawless, blue, teardrop shaped stone.  
  
“The Stone of Tears, I presume?” Denna drawled.  
  
“Doesn’t look all too impressive,” Cara observed.  
  
“Looks aside,” Berdine went on, “Rahl believes the Stone is important.”  
  
“He always was a superstitious bastard,” Cara said. Her sisters stiffened at her words, but made no comment. She continued, unfazed, “I assume he wants us to acquire it for him.”  
  
“He does,” the brunette confirmed. “The location is, as of now, unknown.”  
  
“Typical,” Denna clucked.  
  
“However,” Berdine said with an icy glance at the platinum blonde, “at the beginning of the new year, the Stone of Tears will be the star of an exclusive exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It will only be there for a week, under exceptional security, before it will likely disappear again.”  
  
“That’s a tight timeframe,” Raina said with a frown. “We’ll need to cut some corners. Any ideas, boss?”  
  
She looked to Cara for an answer, but the blonde was lost in thought. Her eyes flicked back and forth as they always did when the wheels in her mind were turning: creating, detailing, and dismissing countless strategies faster than anyone else could fathom. Cara was a brilliant tactician; Berdine had often told her that in another life she could have commanded armies and overthrown empires. As it were, she had come up with a handful of possible approaches in less than a minute. There were a few details, though, she would have to research and develop further. She told her team as much.  
  
“We’ll meet back in a few days,” she said as she stood. “I’ll give you your assignments then.”  
  
“Yes, Mistress,” they replied in unison.  
  
“For now, Berdine, work on getting the rest of those pages translated. Raina, I need you to get the specs on that security system and gather all the equipment we’re going to need. Denna—“  
  
Cara stopped as her phone beeped. She pulled it from the inside pocket of her blazer. There was a message from Kahlan.  
  
“Denna, you just… do whatever it is you usually do,” she said offhandedly as she opened the text.  
  
 _Some friends and I are going out Friday night. I want you to come. 9PM, 430 Amsterdam Ave._  
  
The blonde’s lip twitched a bit as she held back a grin. She sent a quick reply before pocketing her phone once more.  
  
“Alright, if that’s everything—“  
  
“Whoa, hold up,” Raina interrupted. “What just happened right there?”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cara said, raising an eyebrow in challenge.  
  
“You…” Berdine thought for a moment. “It looked like you were about to smile for a second.”  
  
“That’s ridiculous,” Cara dismissed her. “I’m going home now.”  
  
She turned and began to ascend the steps.  
  
“Who was that?” Denna shouted after her.  
  
“Fuck off,” Cara called over her shoulder as she strolled out, letting the doors slam closed behind her.  
  
The three Mord’Sith sat there for a moment, all wearing the same look of confusion.  
  
“What just happened?” Raina asked the others.  
  
“No idea,” Denna told her. “But I’ll be damned if I don’t find out. Berdine, are our phones still connected to the company server?”  
  
“Yeah,” the brunette replied distractedly, “it’s on the seventh floor.”  
  
Without further ado, Denna raced out of the room, a woman on a mission. Raina turned to Berdine, who was still staring at the door Cara had disappeared through, her brow furrowed. She placed a hand on Berdine’s arm, trailing her fingers down slowly.  
  
“Baby,” she husked.  
  
“Hmm?” Berdine hummed in return.  
  
“We’re all alone.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Berdine.” Raina changed from gentle strokes to sharp scratches, but the other woman still paid no notice.  
  
“Cara was acting strangely, don’t you think?” she asked instead.  
  
“My thoughts are certainly not with Cara,” Raina replied, leaning in to press her lips to the nape of Berdine’s neck. Still having no luck, she moved from her chair to Berdine’s, straddling her lap.  
  
“Huh?” At that, Berdine did switch her focus to Raina.  
  
“What I was thinking,” Raina breathed as she scraped her teeth along her lover’s jaw line, “is why haven’t you fucked me on this table yet?”  
  
“That is indeed a great oversight on my part,” Berdine murmured before pulling Raina into a crushing kiss.

—

  
It was nearly dusk by the time Kahlan left the crime scene. It was an open and shut case: a man came home early from work, caught his wife with a hot young stud half her age, and shot them both in a jealous rage. Still, she had needed to see that all the evidence was bagged, the scene dusted for prints, as well as collect statements from the neighbors (which, in a six story apartment building, there were a lot of). Uniforms were bringing the guy to the precinct to be held and processed. Kahlan wouldn’t be able to question him until tomorrow, and she was looking forward to getting home, kicking off her heels, and maybe taking a nice long bath. She slipped into the driver’s seat of her Crown Vic and started the engine. As she was about to pull away, Richard came scrambling into the car, out of breath.  
  
“You were gonna leave without me?” he asked incredulously.  
  
Kahlan rolled her eyes. She hadn’t talked to her partner all day, not since the stunt he pulled with her phone. Not even his patented puppy dog eyes broke her silent treatment. In truth, she hadn’t meant to leave without him, as mad as she was; it had simply slipped her mind. Still, Richard didn’t need to know that.  
  
“You could have walked,” she said, her tone clipped. “The station’s only a few blocks away.”  
  
“C’mon,” Richard sighed. “I said I was sorry.”  
  
“Uh huh,” Kahlan said, looking over her shoulder for a break in traffic.  
  
“Kahlan.” Richard pulled the keys from the ignition, forcing his partner to engage in conversation.  
  
“What the fuck?” She tried to get the keys back, but Richard smacked her hands away and stowed them safely down the front of his pants. “Oh, real mature.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.  
  
“Yeah, you said that already.”  
  
“I was just trying to help.”  
  
“Help?” Kahlan scoffed. “I’ve known her a day! She’s going to think I’m a creep.  _I want you to come._  Seriously, Richard? How were thinly veiled innuendos supposed to help?”  
  
“I thought it was kinda clever,” he defended, a bit deflated.  
  
“For a teenaged boy, maybe.”  
  
“Kahlan.” Richard placed a hand on her forearm. “Really, I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you happy, and I thought seeing her would make you happy.”  
  
“She’s never going to want to see me again after that.”  
  
“Don’t be such a drama queen. It was a harmless text. Has she sent one back?”  
  
“I haven’t checked,” Kahlan admitted.  
  
“Well…” Richard prodded.  
  
Kahlan let out an irritated sigh and grabbed her phone. There was a text from Cara waiting for her.  
  
“She did,” Kahlan said tightly.  
  
“What’s it say?”  
  
Taking a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart, Kahlan opened the message and read it aloud. “See you then.”  
  
She had to read it to herself again a few times before the words sunk in. She turned to Richard, a wide grin plastered on her face, her anger dissolved. Richard smiled back.  
  
“See you then,” she repeated. “You son of a bitch, I love you.”  
  
Kahlan pulled him into a forceful hug, knocking the wind out of him. He returned the embrace with a laugh.  
  
“Love you, too,” he said.  
  
Pulling back, she breathed out, “Thank you. Holy hell, Richard, thank you.”  
  
“I just got things started.” He waved off her thanks. “The rest of it’s up to you. C’mon, let’s go wrap things up at the station.”  
  
“Yeah, alright.” Kahlan reached to the ignition, forgetting for a moment that Richard had taken her keys. She looked to him with a grimace and motioned towards his crotch. “You… um…”  
  
“Oh!” Richard fished the keys out of his pants and held them up to her. She wrinkled her nose.  
  
“I don’t want to touch those.”  
  
“Sorry,” he said, also eying at them warily. “Not my best idea.”  
  
“Definitely not,” Kahlan agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are going well at the bar. That is, until, the arrival of three unexpected guests.

 

“Black or red?”  
  
Lounging on Cara’s bed, Dog took a break from chewing on his bone to look at his master. He seemed to consider her question for a moment before cocking his head to the left.  
  
“Really?” Cara asked, holding the black shirt closer for inspection. “You don’t think it’s too slutty?”  
  
Dog chose not to respond, instead returning to his bone.  
  
“Ugh.” Cara tossed both articles of clothing back into her closet. “You’re no help at all.”  
  
In only a lace bra and her favorite pair of jeans (the ones that made her ass look fantastic), she continued to peruse her wardrobe in search of something suitable. What do you wear to have drinks with your unbelievably attractive neighbor who has no idea you want to spend a week between her legs? It was a question that had plagued Cara since she had accepted Kahlan’s invitation three days before.  
  
During those three days, she had only seen the woman a handful of times, and mostly just in passing. Cara had been busy with the Stone job, spending most of her time at her computer examining blueprints, security specs, personnel files: all the usual things. Similarly, Kahlan had her hands full with a tricky case. Something about a string of armed robberies. Or were they bank jobs? Honestly, Cara hadn’t been paying much attention, considering Kahlan wouldn’t stop licking her lips throughout the conversation. It was a testament to Cara’s resolve that she hadn’t grabbed the brunette and replaced her tongue with her own.  
  
There had been a slightly longer encounter, Cara remembered fondly, the morning before. As she flicked through her vast collection of blouses, she let her mind wander back to the event.  
  
  


—

  
  
_Her sneakers smacked against the pavement with steady thuds. Arms and legs pumping, chest heaving, Cara pushed herself harder. Running was on the long list of things she hated, but she had to forgo her usual workout of weapons training and Capoeira sparring sessions considering her location. She doubted her neighbors would take kindly to all the screams._   
  
_Speaking of neighbors…_   
  
_As Cara came around the block, she spotted a woman running a little ways down, her long dark ponytail swinging in time with her hips. Cara knew those hips. She put on a burst of speed. As she came up behind Kahlan, she heard the woman humming along to whichever song was playing on her iPod. The melody wasn’t one Cara recognized._   
  
_“What’re you listening to?” Cara asked, reaching out to tap Kahlan on the shoulder._   
  
_Having been completely unaware of anyone behind her, Kahlan gave an undignified yelp as she spun around, swinging a fist out instinctively. If it had been anyone else, her fist would have broken a jaw. Cara, however, had quicker reflexes than most, and evaded the jab lazily. Caught up in the momentum, Kahlan nearly fell to the ground, only staying upright thanks to the blonde, who snaked an arm around her waist. Her chest was now pressed to Cara’s, their faces only inches apart, both of them breathing hard from exertion and something else entirely._   
  
_Cara willed her expression to remain impassive. She raised an eyebrow, the picture of indifference. “Do you always attack civilians, Detective?”_   
  
_Kahlan tried to form words, but found that her mind had gone blank the moment she felt Cara’s breasts against her own. She finally managed to mutter out a quiet, “Sorry.”_   
  
_She was so close. All Cara had to do was lean in. Her hand on the small of Kahlan’s back flexed, unsure of whether to pull the woman in or release her. In the end, it did the latter. Cara stepped back, putting space between them._   
  
_“Didn’t mean to startle you,” she said as she began to walk further down the road._   
  
_Still a bit in shock, Kahlan had to take a second before she jogged to catch up with the blonde. “No, it’s okay.”_   
  
_They walked side by side in silence for a few moments. Then, as Cara expected, Kahlan commented on her artful dodge. “You’re really fast.”_   
  
_“Good thing,” Cara said. “You could’ve knocked a few teeth out with that right hook.”_   
  
_“That would have been tragic,” Kahlan replied. “Your smile is your best feature.”_   
  
_Cara gave her a sideways glance, smirking. “Detective, I do believe you’re teasing me. And so soon after nearly assaulting me.”_   
  
_“Me? Never. I’m no tease.” Kahlan caught the double meaning of her words a second later and turned red. “I didn’t mean… I meant I don’t tease people. No, shit, wait. I meant—“_   
  
_“I think I know what you meant,” Cara said, graciously sparing the brunette any further embarrassment. She reached into the pocket of her sweatpants, pulling out her pack of Marlboro’s and a lighter. She placed two cigarettes between her lips, lit them, and handed one to Kahlan, who took it with a laugh._   
  
_“Do you always smoke after a run?” She took a deep drag, grateful for the near instantaneous calming effect of the nicotine._   
  
_“Why not?” Cara shrugged. “Too much healthy activity could kill you. The body needs balance. Pain and pleasure.”_   
  
_“In that order?” Kahlan asked, allowing herself to engage in a bit of flirtatious banter._   
  
_Cara looked at her then, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”_   
  
_Before Kahlan could tell her that yes, she would like to know very much, they arrived at their houses. Dog was prancing around Cara’s front yard, trying fruitlessly to catch a leaf blowing about in the wind. Cara rolled her eyes, and Kahlan laughed._   
  
_“Aren’t you afraid he’ll run away?”_   
  
_“No,” Cara told her. “He’s a loyal pet.”_   
  
_As if to prove her point, Cara whistled, and Dog stopped his gallivanting immediately, coming to sit at his master’s feet. She gave him a pat on the head and a curt, “Good dog.”_   
  
_Kahlan gave him a much friendlier greeting, scratching him under the chin. “Hey, you fluffy lug.”_   
  
_Dog reveled in the attention, his tail wagging wildly._   
  
_“I think he likes you better,” Cara said, frowning._   
  
_“Can’t blame him,” Kahlan said with a straight face. “I’m downright delightful.”_   
  
_“Yes,” Cara drawled, “you’re positively a pleasure to be around.”_   
  
_“Now who’s the tease?”_   
  
_Cara smirked and made her way towards her door, saying over her shoulder, “Oh, Detective Amnell. I never claimed otherwise.”_   
  
  


—

  
  
A shrill  _BEEP BEEP BEEP_ shook Cara from her thoughts. She cursed under her breath. It was the alarm she had set for when she had to leave to meet Kahlan. And there she was, still topless, daydreaming.  
  
Cara hastily threw on a white v-neck tee, her leather jacket, and a pair of ankle boots. If she looked like crap, she thought, so be it. Showing up late was unacceptable. She grabbed her keys and was out the door before Dog could notice she had left. He whined for a moment, then resigned himself to the fact that she was gone and snuggled up against her pillow to take a nap.  
  
The trip should have taken around forty-five minutes. The way Cara drove, it took twenty. She checked her watch: nine o’clock on the dot. Perfect, as always.  
  
  
She parked her car in a place on W 80th and walked the half block to the bar. She had looked it up the day before. It was a cozy pub, frequented by law enforcement. Just the sort of place a career criminal should be spending her Friday night.  
  
“I’m a Goddamn idiot,” Cara muttered as she went inside.  
  


—

  
  
“She’s not coming,” Kahlan said for the umpteenth time.  
  
Richard shook his head, taking a sip of his vodka tonic. “It’s been nine o’clock for literally four seconds.”  
  
“But if she were coming, she’d be here by now, right?” Kahlan peeled at the label of the beer she had been nursing for the past half hour.  
  
“She probably got caught in traffic,” he soothed.  
  
“Right. Traffic.” Kahlan nodded, then frowned. “What if she got lost?”  
  
“Jesus, woman, relax,” Richard laughed. “You’re killing my buzz.”  
  
She sighed. “Sorry. I guess I’m just nervous.”  
  
“The great Kahlan Amnell nervous?” he joked. “That’s a new one.”  
  
“Shut it, Cypher.” She smacked his arm.  
  
“No, seriously,” he said. “I’ve never seen you like this. What’s the deal?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Kahlan groaned. “She just makes me so…”  
  
“Horny?” Richard provided.  
  
“Stupid!” she exclaimed. “It’s like the moment I see her my brain decides to take a goddamn vacation and I end up blabbering like an idiot.”  
  
“I see how that could be a problem.”  
  
Kahlan buried her face in her hands. “I might as well just crawl into a hole and die.”  
  
“You might not want to do that just yet,” Richard told her, “because the hottest girl in existence just walked in.”  
  
“I don’t care,” Kahlan said, her voice muffled.  
  
“I know you don’t usually go for blondes, but—“  
  
“Blonde?” Kahlan’s head popped up. She frantically searched the crowded room until her eyes landed on Cara. “Holy fuck.”  
  
“I know, right?” Richard husked. “The things I’d let that woman do to me…”  
  
“That’s her.”  
  
Richard looked to Kahlan, eyes wide, then back to Cara, and to Kahlan once more. “You’re shitting me.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“I hate you so much right now.”  
  
“I know.” She pushed him over. “Move.”  
  
“I’m moving, I’m moving, jeez,” he complained as Kahlan nearly knocked him to the ground exiting the booth.  
  
Not having seen Kahlan through the congestion, Cara figured she was early and went to get a drink. The bartender was busy taking someone’s order, but the Mord’Sith wasn’t one to wait. She whistled, gaining his attention instantly.  
  
“Scotch and soda,” she said as if giving a command, and the bartender nearly tripped over himself to comply.  
  
The man who had been snubbed reeled on her. “Hey, what—“ He stopped short upon seeing Cara, immediately switching tactics. “Hey.”  
  
Cara looked him up and down. Tall, muscular, relatively handsome. She didn’t usually go for men, but another night, she might have taken him home just for the hell of it. Tonight, though, she only had eyes for one.  
  
“I’m Leo,” he introduced himself, extending a hand.  
  
She raised an eyebrow at the offered extremity. “Good for you.”  
  
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, not one to be discouraged.  
  
At that moment, the bartender came back with her scotch and soda. “On the house,” he told her.  
  
Cara smirked, took a sip, and raised the glass at her would-be suitor. “Already got one.”  
  
“The next one, maybe?”  
  
 _This guy just can’t take a hint,_  she thought with a scowl.  
  
Before she could tell Leo where he could shove his offer, a woman called out, “Cara.”  
  
The blonde looked towards the speaker, the harsh words dying on her tongue the moment she saw Kahlan. Her lips quirked up into a small smile as the brunette approached.  
  
“Detective Dane bothering you?” she asked Cara, barely succeeding in keeping the jealousy from her tone.  
  
“Immensely,” Cara deadpanned.  
  
Leo glanced between the two women, a knowing look coming over his face. “Ah, gotcha. Sorry, Amnell. Didn’t realize she was with you.” And with that, he beat a hasty retreat.  
  
“C’mon,” Kahlan said, navigating through the throngs of people, “We’ve got a booth.”  
  
“He a friend of yours?” Cara asked as she followed.  
  
“Who, Dane? Yeah, I suppose. He comes on a bit strong, but he’s a good cop.”  
  
“Guy looks like he couldn’t take on a chipmunk,” Cara remarked, gaining a snort from Kahlan.  
  
They made their way to the booth where Richard sat, jaw dropped, his eyes glued to the blonde.  
  
“Richard, this is Cara,” Kahlan introduced, slipping into the seat beside him as Cara took one opposite. “Cara, this mouth breather is Detective Richard Cypher.”  
  
“It’s nice to meet you,” Cara said, remembering her manners.  
  
“Oh my God she’s Australian,” he blurted out, eliciting a sigh from Kahlan. “I mean; it’s pleasurable. My pleasure. To meet you.”  
  
Cara blinked at him a few times and took a sip of her drink, choosing not to comment on his behavior.  
  
Richard leaned towards Kahlan, whispering, “I see what you mean about the stupidity thing.”  
  
“Just try not to embarrass yourself,” Kahlan murmured back. “Or me.”  
  
Richard took a large pull of his drink and cleared his throat. The group sat in an awkward silence for a few moments before he spoke up again. “So, Cara. What do you do?”  
  
“Acquisitions,” she told him. The subsequent lull in conversation, and the uncomfortable look on Kahlan’s face, forced her to continue. “I’m in charge of gaining and maintaining certain assets for the Rahl Organization.”  
  
“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of the Rahl Organization.”  
  
“I’m not surprised. We only began doing business in the States recently.”  
  
“Which is why Cara moved,” Kahlan offered, glad they were establishing some sort of dialogue.  
  
“Why here?” Richard asked.  
  
 _He’s just full of questions._ Cara grimaced inwardly. She almost told him the truth: that she was there to steal a priceless ancient artifact from right under their noses, just to shut him up. Instead, she smirked and answered, “This is the land of opportunity, isn’t it?”  
  
At that, Richard chuckled. “Very true.”  
  
Cara saw Kahlan relax at Richard’s laugh and give him a smile. They seemed very comfortable with one another. It crossed her mind that they could be a couple. She wouldn’t be surprised. Richard was a bit boyish, but attractive, and a cop to boot. He had a sense of righteousness about him that Kahlan no doubt admired. It was really none of her business, Cara thought, whether or not they were an item. That, of course, didn’t stop her from asking:  
  
“So, Richard. You’re Kahlan’s… boyfriend?”  
  
Kahlan opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by Richard’s boisterous laugh.  
  
“Oh, no, we’re just partners,” he explained. Cara released the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. Kahlan also released a breath, though she had been holding hers in consciously, preparing herself. Richard had a knack for saying whatever came to his mind, never stopping to think if it would be inappropriate or embarrassing. Kahlan was grateful, therefore, that he responded as he did. That was, until, he continued. “And we’re more like brother and sister, really. I doubt we’d date even if Kahlan were interested in men.”  
  
 _Aaaaand there it is,_ Kahlan groaned inwardly. She risked a glance at the blonde, trying to gauge the woman’s reaction.  
  
Cara kept her expression schooled, unreadable, even though she was silently thanking every deity she had ever heard of. “I see.”  
  
Richard continued on, oblivious. “I think I’m pretty lucky, really, getting to partner up with the Mother Confessor.”  
  
“Mother Confessor?” Cara repeated, her interest piqued.  
  
“It’s just a stupid nickname,” Kahlan said quickly.  
  
“Oh, c’mon, Kahlan.” Richard gave her a knock with his shoulder. “Don’t be so humble. This woman, she can read people, Cara. Can’t hide a thing from her. Believe me, I’ve tried.”  
  
“You can read anyone?” Cara asked Kahlan.  
  
Kahlan met the other woman’s gaze, searching, trying to read anything she could. Her eyes void, her features steady and unyielding, Cara was a blank wall. “Apparently not,” Kahlan answered.  
  
 _That’s one bullet dodged._ Cara smirked. “Don’t let it trouble you, Detective. I’ve never been very transparent.”  
  
“Guess you’ll just have to tell me what you’re thinking, then,” Kahlan said.  
  
Cara hesitated. She was entering dangerous territory. Never mind that she was flirting with the enemy. No, what bothered her more was that she was interested in anyone at all. And not just physically, she actually  _liked_  Kahlan. First off, Mord’Sith were not supposed to like people. They were trained to treat everyone but their Sisters with the upmost contempt. Second, she had been down this road before. She had lowered her walls, let someone in, loved them. She still had the scars to prove how well that went. If she were smart, she would finish her drink, say her goodbyes, and avoid her neighbor like the plague from there on out. But there was a part of her telling her not to, telling her that Kahlan was different.  
  
That part was too loud to ignore.  
  
“Tell you what.” Cara got up, shrugged off her jacket, and nodded towards the back of the bar where there were a few empty pool tables. “You want to know what I’m thinking? I’ll play you for it.”  
  
She walked off before Kahlan could respond. The Detective sat in stunned silence for a moment. This woman was going to be the death of her.  
  
“Marry her,” Richard said, watching Cara’s retreating form. “Marry her now.”  
  
Kahlan just rolled her eyes and followed.

  
—

  
  
The blonde handed her a cue and racked the balls. “You can break.”  
  
“How gracious of you.” Kahlan applied a bit of chalk to her stick.  
  
“It’s only fair,” Cara told her. “You’re going to lose either way.”  
  
“Is that so?”  
  
Cara simply hummed in response.  
  
Kahlan shook her head and positioned the cue ball. “Listen, about what Richard said…”  
  
“About you being a lesbian?” Cara finished for her, never one to mince words.  
  
The brunette blushed. “Yeah, that. I… well, I hope you don’t mind.”  
  
“Not in the slightest,” Cara answered as Kahlan lined up her shot. “After all, a woman looks much better bent over a pool table.”  
  
Kahlan’s arm jerked at her words and she scratched the ball, sending it flying straight at Cara. The blonde caught it just inches from her face. She chuckled. “Nice shot.”  
  
“Fuck, sorry,” Kahlan stammered.  
  
Cara sauntered towards her, rolling the ball in her palm. “You’re much too stiff, Detective.” She placed the ball back on the table and slid behind Kahlan. Her hands came up to take hold of the brunette’s hips. “You need to relax.”  
  
“Is this supposed to help me relax?” she asked, voice hitching as Cara’s hands applied a bit more pressure.  
  
“No,” the blonde rasped, her breath hot on the back of Kahlan’s neck. She placed a hand on the cue, pulling it gently from the other woman’s grasp.  
  
“You don’t play fair,” Kahlan said breathlessly.  
  
“I play to win,” Cara told her. “Move. Let me show you how it’s done.”  
  
And she did. Cara sunk two balls on the break. She surveyed the table for a bit, planning out her game, before taking her second shot. She jumped the eight ball and drove another into the pocket, then banked a shot off of the bumper to knock in number eleven. Her fourth shot she missed by less than an inch, and she reluctantly relinquished the cue to Kahlan.  
  
“Damn,” the Detective said. “You’re good at this.”  
  
Cara grinned. “I’m good at a lot of things.”  
  
“Are you always this cocky?”  
  
Cara answered without so much as a blink. “Yes.”  
  
“You’re not the only one with talent, you know,” Kahlan teased.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
Rather than answer, Kahlan took a shot, knocking in two of her own balls. She smiled at Cara sweetly.  
  
 _Well, shit_ , Cara thought. This wasn’t going to be as easy as she had expected.  
  
Kahlan caught up quickly, and they were neck and neck throughout the game. Cara would sink a shot, only to have Kahlan make her next one, never letting up. Before long, only the eight ball was left. They each missed their first attempts. The ball was edging the corner pocket, though, at Cara’s next turn. She raised a challenging eyebrow at Kahlan and lined up.  
  
“Ready to lose?” she taunted, pulling her arm back. As she drove the cue forward, she felt Kahlan’s fingers graze down her spine. She pulled up at the last moment, sending the cue ball into a backspin, missing completely.  
  
Kahlan grinned and sunk the game winning shot. Cara looked at her incredulously.  
  
“You cheated,” she accused the brunette.  
  
“I play to win,” Kahlan answered with a shrug. She took a step forward, placing herself just inches from the other woman. “So, tell me.”  
  
“Tell you?” Cara repeated, her mind hazy at Kahlan’s close proximity.  
  
“What you’re thinking.”  
  
Cara’s eyes flicked to Kahlan’s lips for a moment before returning her gaze. Green eyes bore into blue, smoldering. “You really want to know?”  
  
“Yeah,” Kahlan murmured leaning in slightly, her breath mingling with Cara’s. “I really do.”  
  
“I was thinking…”  
  
 _That you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,_  her mind screamed.  _That I can’t get you out of my head. That I want you. God, how I want you._  
  
And Cara was about to say just that when someone called her name. She whipped her head around, cursing under her breath when she saw the last three people in the world she had wanted to see.  
  
Her fellow Mord’Sith approached the two of them with a practiced air of nonchalance, though Cara could spot the tautness of their limbs, their heightened awareness, as if they were walking into battle.  
  
“What an unexpected surprise,” Denna said, eyebrows raised in mock astonishment. “We didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”  
  
 _Bullshit._  Cara should have known they would pull something like this.  
  
“Cara,” Kahlan began hesitantly, “are these friends of yours?”  
  
“No,” the blonde replied as Denna said, “yes.”  
  
“Oh, Cara,” Berdine chided lightly, “stop being so obtuse.”  
  
Cara huffed. “What are you doing here?” she nearly growled.  
  
“Just came to get a drink,” Raina supplied. “We live only a few blocks away.”  
  
“Of course.” There was fire in Cara’s eyes.  
  
“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your… friend?” Denna asked as she looked Kahlan up and down.  
  
Cara glared at her. “This is Kahlan.”  
  
“What a lovely name,” Denna said, extending her hand. “I’m Denna. And the sickening lovebirds are Berdine and Raina. We work with Cara.”  
  
“Nice to meet you,” Kahlan replied, shaking each of their hands in turn.  
  
“How do you two know each other?” Raina asked.  
  
“We’re neighbors.”  
  
The Mord’Sith exchanged glances.  
  
“She was serious about the neighbor thing?” Berdine murmured to the others, receiving shrugs in response.  
  
“Would you like to join us?” Kahlan asked, ever so polite.  
  
Denna replied with a wolfish grin, “We’d love to.”  
  
As Kahlan led them back to the booth, Cara stepped in line with her Mord’Sith. “I don’t know how you knew I was here; I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but if you try anything, I will eviscerate the lot of you and strangle you with your own entrails.”  
  
The women rejoined Richard, and after another round of introductions, the group fell into a comfortable dialogue. Well, at least Kahlan, Raina, and Berdine were talking. Denna and Richard were too busy eye fucking each other across the table to contribute much to the conversation. As for Cara, she was silent throughout, plotting ways to bring about a quick end to the night, including, but not limited to: faking a seizure, setting a small, containable fire, and stabbing herself in the eye with her Agiel. She was weighing the pros and cons of each option when she heard her name mentioned and returned her attention to the conversation.  
  
“Cara was the one who introduced us,” Berdine had said. “We were, what, eight?”  
  
“Nine,” Raina corrected.  
  
“That’s right. It’ll be seventeen years this April.”  
  
“You all grew up together?” Kahlan asked.  
  
“We were in the same foster home,” Raina answered. Cara rolled her eyes at that. The Mord’Sith temple they had been raised in was far from that. After the death of her parents, her sister Grace had been raised in a foster home, with normal parents, living a normal childhood. Her own upbringing could hardly classify as such. From what she had heard, there was usually a lot less blood involved.  
  
Once again having been lost in her thoughts, Cara missed Kahlan’s next question, but caught the answer.  
  
“Cara has three expressions,” Berdine explained. “Apathetic stare, arrogant smirk, and exasperated eye roll.” Looking towards the blonde, she revised her statement. “Make that four. I forgot murderous glare.”  
  
Kahlan laughed. “Oh, c’mon, she must smile some time.”  
  
Raina intercepted her query. “Unless it’s at someone else’s expense, not really, no.” She paused, thinking. “Though I suppose she smiled every once in a while when she was with Dahlia.”  
  
The mood changed the instant that name was uttered. Berdine and Denna both reeled on Raina, fixing her with warning looks, and Kahlan felt Cara go rigid beside her. The blonde’s aforementioned murderous glare turned into full on rage.  
  
“Cara,” Raina began cautiously, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“  
  
“Save it,” Cara hissed back venomously. She rose from her seat abruptly, grabbed her jacket, and left without another word.  
  
“What the hell were you thinking?” Denna chided her Sister. It was an unspoken rule among them all never to mention that woman. Whoever did would likely not live to make the same mistake twice.  
  
“I don’t know,” Raina confessed. “I figured she’d get over it by now.”  
  
“Would you ever ‘get over it’ if Berdine did that to you?”  
  
Raina shook her head, properly chastised.  
  
Kahlan wanted to ask what exactly this Dahlia person had done, but there was a more pressing matter at hand. “I’m gonna go after her,” she told the others, gathering her things. “It was nice to meet you. I’ll see you tomorrow, Richard.”  
  
She caught up with Cara half a block away. The blonde was propped up against a wall, head back, eyes closed, a cigarette dangling from her lips. Her breathing was labored as she tried to calm herself down. Kahlan came to lean next to her.  
  
“Why’d you follow me?” Cara mumbled.  
  
Kahlan shrugged. “Wanted to make sure you were alright.”  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“Okay.” Kahlan knew it was a lie, but didn’t push the issue. She had expected as much. In all honesty, she was just grateful Cara hadn’t stalked off the moment she approached. From what she knew of the woman, it was highly probable. But she hadn’t budged.  
  
Kahlan’s knuckles grazed against Cara’s, and without a second’s hesitation, she took the other woman’s hand in her own, threading their fingers together. Cara’s eyes fluttered open and darted to Kahlan’s.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“Holding your hand.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Kahlan gave her a small smile. “Because I want to. Do you mind?”  
  
Cara furrowed her brow. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had held her hand. It was childish. It was weak. She should have minded. She should have minded very much. She didn’t. “No,” she finally answered.  
  
Kahlan’s smile grew, and she ducked her head, blushing. “You going home?”  
  
“Yeah.” Cara paused for a moment, not wanting to say goodnight just yet. “Can I walk you to your car?”  
  
“I took the train,” Kahlan told her.  
  
“Then I’ll drive you.”  
  
“You don’t have to do that.”  
  
Cara scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You live a whole twenty feet from me.”  
  
“If you insist.”  
  
“I do,” Cara asserted.  
  
She led to way to her car. Kahlan couldn’t help but notice that Cara had yet to let go of her hand.  
  
The drive was silent and much too short for both their likings. Upon arriving, they stood on the sidewalk between their respective houses, neither knowing what to say. It was Cara, strangely enough, who spoke first.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said, the words strange on her tongue. “My friends are… not used to minding their own business.”  
  
“No, it’s fine,” Kahlan assured her. “They seemed nice, actually.”  
  
Cara snorted. “That’s a new one.”  
  
At length, Kahlan said, “I don’t think Raina was trying to hurt you with what she said.” Cara stiffened, but let her continue. “I just can’t imagine what that woman did to you to.”  
  
“You don’t want to know,” Cara muttered. It was probably true; she couldn’t imagine anyone would want to hear that story. Not even her Sisters knew all the details, only what they had witnessed themselves, and she didn’t tell them any more. Cara figured that if she ever did tell anyone, it would be Kahlan. But that could never happen. She would have to explain everything then: who she really was, what she really did for a living. No, that could never happen.  
  
“Whatever it was,” Kahlan told her, “I’m sorry. She must have been a real cunt.”  
  
At that, Cara laughed. Not her usual snicker, but a real, full laugh. Kahlan lit up.  
  
“What?” Cara asked at her reaction.  
  
“Nothing,” the brunette responded. “Just… I’ve never heard you laugh before.”  
  
“It’s not something I do often,” Cara admitted.  
  
“It should be,” Kahlan insisted. “It’s a beautiful sound.”  
  
Cara squirmed. She wasn’t used to such attentions. “Well,” she deflected, “maybe if you were funnier it would happen more.”  
  
The Detective nodded solemnly. “I know. I’m so dull.”  
  
“Painfully so.”  
  
“It’s a wonder why you even spend time with me.”  
  
Cara shrugged. “Pity, mostly.”  
  
Kahlan laughed. “Even so, I consider myself lucky.”  
  
“How’s that?”  
  
“I enjoy your company.”  
  
“Why?” Cara asked, genuinely puzzled.  
  
Kahlan frowned. She hadn’t really thought about it. Her relationship with Cara, if she could even call it that, wasn’t based on anything substantial. They didn’t talk much, or do particularly fun and exciting things. But when she was with Cara, Kahlan found she didn’t mind. It was enough just to be with her.  
  
“I guess,” she worked out finally, “because you make me feel good.”  
  
Cara blinked. Whatever answer she had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. It troubled her. She was Mord’Sith, trained to inflict pain and suffering. She  _was_  pain and suffering. And what troubled her even more was that she was happy she made Kahlan feel good.  
  
 _Happy?_ Cara reeled.  _Did I just say I was happy?_  
  
She noticed Kahlan was looking at her, waiting for some type of response, but she hadn’t the slightest idea what her response should be.  
  
 _Thank you? You make me feel good too?_  
  
It was the truth. But she could barely admit that to herself, never mind out loud. Finally, Cara cleared her throat and muttered, “I should get some sleep.”  
  
“Of course,” Kahlan said, shaking off her disappointment.  _What did you expect her to say, you idiot?_ “Good night, Cara.”  
  
“Good night.”  
  
They parted ways reluctantly, neither satisfied with how the night had gone, both frustrated at how it had ended. They had left things unsaid. They had left things unfinished. And as they each slid into bed that night, the same thought crossed their minds.  
  
 _I should have kissed her._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes DOWN.

She opened her eyes to absolute darkness. She blinked a few times, but there was no light to adjust to, only shadows on top of shadows, a void of black. But she didn’t need to see to know where she was. The familiar scent told her as much as it assaulted her senses, filth and iron and blood.  
  
The fog in her head began to clear, and she knew the pain was coming. It started with a vague tingling, the blood trickling from the open wounds she could not yet feel, crawling down her body, hot and wet. She could sense it make its way down her chest, stomach, thighs, calves, before it fell from her toes and struck the ground with a faint  _drip drip drip._  
  
Then came the ache in her shoulders. They were both dislocated, she knew. She had been kept hanging there for so long; it would have been impossible for them not to be.  
  
A rattling breath revealed a tight stabbing in her chest. Broken ribs. At least four.  
  
Finally, the hot prickling all along her back, stomach, and legs, where a thin, braided thong of leather had left dozens of long, shallow cuts.  
  
That’s when the pain began to deepen. It crept in slowly, growing with every heartbeat, transforming from a dull throb to a jagged anguish. She thought it would be over soon, that it would finally reach a peak, allowing her to become accustomed to the feeling and fight it off. But it only kept rising. It wasn’t long before it became pure agony. Every inch of her body was on fire, and she was shaking at its intensity.  
  
She heard a series of whimpers and was horrified when she realized it was she who had made the noises. She clenched her teeth in an attempt to stop them, only to have a new pain shoot through her jaw, resulting in a choked shout.  
  
She closed her eyes, took a few breaths, and stopped fighting. The only way to survive such suffering, she had learned long ago, was to embrace it. She let her mind go blank; let her body feel every blooming bruise, every burning cut, every ripping muscle.  
  
She welcomed the pain like an old friend.  
  
There was a shrill creak of a door opening and the scuff of boots on stone. The footsteps came closer, slow and measured, until they stopped directly in front of her. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know whom they belonged to. And so, she wasn’t surprised when that slimy voice snaked into her ear.  
  
“Are you ready?” it asked.  
  
She let her eyes creak open to stare at the face so close to hers. Even in the dim firelight she could see his black hair hanging limply to his shoulders, his thin lips curled in malice, and his eyes, like ice, glinting at her with cruel excitement. The sight twisted her stomach in knots, and had it not been empty, she would have retched.  
  
“Are you ready to rejoin your Sisters?”  
  
She took a steady breath. It was over. She had no fight left. Not even death would save her from this. And just as she had accepted the pain, she accepted her fate. “Yes.”  
  
Darken Rahl bared his too-white teeth in a sadistic grin. “You are born again, Cara Mason.”  
  
A blur of movement, a flash of steel, a searing pain in her right side, and all went black again.  


 

—

  
Cara’s eyes flew open as she awoke violently. Blood pounded in her ears as her heart raced, and she struggled to regain awareness. It came back to her slowly, but soon she realized where she was: the crisp linens, the shaggy warmth at her feet, the soft chirp of sparrows and fresh morning sunlight flirting in through her window. She was home. She was safe.  
  
It was a dream. One she had had many times before but had never grown used to. Every time was like the first: vivid and raw and real. That’s what it was like, she supposed, when dreams were actually memories.  
  
Soaked in sweat, she threw the covers off and let cool air drift over her naked form. The sudden movement disturbed her sleeping partner, who raised his head at once to look at her and whine.  
  
“Shut it,” she murmured, her tone lacking its usual authority.  
  
Dog apparently noticed said lack, and instead of complying, let out another whine as he padded to her side. He nuzzled her cheek with his nose and gave it a tentative lick. Cara sighed but didn’t stop him. She scratched him behind the ear and brooded.  
  
The dream had disturbed her. It wasn’t necessarily the content, but more the fact that she had had it in the first place. In the past year, it had plagued her nearly every night, up until a few months ago. She thought it was over then, done with. She thought she was finally at peace with what had happened. Evidently, her subconscious thought otherwise.  
  
Cara rose from the bed abruptly. Her muscles jerked with adrenaline. She needed something to settle herself. A hot shower, perhaps. Or a stiff drink. As she got dressed, her hand grazed the cold blade of her Agiel, and she realized neither of those would do.  
  
What she needed was a fight.  


 

—

  
“Richard,” Kahlan groaned once more.  
  
The two were making their way down E 18th back to Richard’s apartment. The Giants were playing the Red Skins at noon, so they had grabbed a case of beer at the corner market beforehand. It was somewhat of a tradition between them: knocking back brews while cheering on Big Blue. This time, however, Kahlan had somehow been assigned the task of lugging the case.  
  
“Cypher!” she tried again.  
  
“Yeah?” he asked distractedly, not taking his eyes off his phone.  
  
“Why am I carrying this?”  
  
“Shush.” Richard waved a hand at her. “I’m almost done with this level.”  
  
“I swear to God,” Kahlan said through clenched teeth, “if you’re playing Angry Birds again I will kick you.”  
  
“I’m not,” he assured her. “It’s Angry Birds in Space.”  
  
Richard just barely evaded Kahlan’s boot as it came flying towards his shin.  
  
They reached his building, and Kahlan had never been so grateful that Richard lived on the first floor. She dropped the case onto the kitchen table within seconds of entering the apartment, ripped it open, popped a bottle, and took a long pull. Richard followed suit, and they plopped down onto the couch just in time for kickoff.  
  
Kahlan, Richard noticed during the first few minutes of the game, was much less vocal than usual, not even bothering to curse out the refs on a particularly bad call that set the Giants back fifteen yards. Meddlesome as he was, he called her out on it.  
  
“What’s up your ass?”  
  
Kahlan fixed him with a hard look. “What?”  
  
“You’re so…” He struggled to find the right word. “Moody today.”  
  
“I’m not moody,” she huffed.  
  
“Kahlan, don’t – Hey! That was face masking, jackass!” he yelled at the screen before returning his attention to his friend. “Kahlan, don’t even try it. You may be great at pointing out bullshit, but you couldn’t lie to save your life.”  
  
Kahlan mumbled something under her breath that sounded vaguely like “motherfucking know-it-all.”  
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“Tell me.”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Please?”  
  
“Screw you.”  
  
Richard narrowed his eyes at her. “Did something happen with Cara?” he guessed.  
  
“No,” Kahlan said stiffly. “And that’s the point.”  
  
He stared at her blankly. “I don’t follow.”  
  
“Jesus, I chickened out, alright?” she nearly yelled. “She drove me home, and we were saying goodnight, and I was trying to read the signals, but God damn it that woman is impossible, and I have no idea what the hell she’s thinking any of the time, but she held my hand, but I said something nice and I think she was sort of uncomfortable, but I wanted to kiss her, and I almost did, and then I bitched out, okay?”  
  
Richard was unaffected by her rambling, having been subject to it many times before when she became frustrated with a case, and followed her perfectly. He waited a moment to let her relax before asking, “Why?”  
  
“Why what?”  
  
“Why’d you bitch out?”  
  
Kahlan scoffed, as if the answer were obvious. “Because what if I went for it and she doesn’t feel the same way I do?”  
  
“Ha!” Richard exclaimed loudly. “You’re kidding me, right?” At seeing her glare, he realized she wasn’t, and continued. “Dude, she’s totally in lesbians with you.”  
  
Kahlan rolled her eyes at him. “Okay, one, I told you to stop saying ‘in lesbians’. That’s not a thing.”  
  
“That’s what you said about swag, and look how big a thing it is now,” Richard countered.  
  
“Two,” Kahlan went on, ignoring him, “how could you possibly know that?”  
  
“She wasn’t too subtle with the flirting,” he reminded her.  
  
“That’s…” Kahlan trailed off and sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”  
  
It took him a second, but Richard finally figured out what she did mean. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way you do,” he repeated. “And how do you feel, exactly?”  
  
Kahlan paused, not knowing how to explain. Because what she felt didn’t make any sense. The depths of her feelings for Cara were unfamiliar. Never before had one person managed to so completely consume her every thought. There were simply no words. But Richard was waiting for an answer. After a long silence, Kahlan settled on saying, “fluttery.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“That’s the only way I can think to describe it,” she admitted. “It’s just, when I’m with her, there’s nothing else. There could be a meteor about to fall from the sky and bash my head in and I wouldn’t even notice because the second I look into her eyes my heart gets all…”  
  
“Fluttery,” he finished for her, and she nodded. “And you don’t think she feels that way too?”  
  
“I hope she does. But maybe for her it’s just a physical thing.”  
  
“Or maybe you make her all fluttery.”  
  
Kahlan gave him a halfhearted smile. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know.”  
  
Carefully, he said, “Well, why don’t you stop being such a chicken and find out?”  
  
Thankfully, Kahlan didn’t take offense. She only looked at him a bit lost and asked, “How?”  
  
Richard shrugged. “You could start by actually kissing her.”  


 

—

  
“She’s going to kill us,” Raina asserted as she, Berdine, and Denna marched down the long, dim hallway.  
  
They had each received a message from Cara earlier in the day to meet her in the office basement at one o’clock. Seeing as the basement had been turned into a verifiable dojo, they all knew what that meant, and had dressed accordingly in the standard Mord’Sith training outfit of black Lycra shorts and a blood red sports bra.  
  
“She’s not going to kill us,” Berdine assured her.  
  
The hallway came to an end, opening up into a cavernous room. The oak paneled walls were lined with countless weapons from every era: from maces, halberds, and swords to pistols and assault rifles. It was an impressive arsenal, one the Mord’Sith had been familiar with from a young age. There wasn’t a single weapon they hadn’t handled, and few they hadn’t mastered.  
  
Their bare feet padded along the matted floor as the women came to the center of the room. It was there that Cara stood, also in her training outfit, patiently waiting, her back ramrod straight, her hands clasped behind her, her expression one of barely contained aggression. Her fellow Mord’Sith fidgeted under her gaze. It was one they had seen many times before, and they knew what it led to. They waited for her to speak. It seemed, though, that Cara was content with silently glaring.  
  
It was Berdine who first gathered the courage to say something. “Mistress?”  
  
Cara’s eyes snapped to her, ripe with fury. Berdine visibly recoiled. “Alright, she might kill us,” she murmured to Raina.  
  
At length, Cara finally addressed them, her voice low and dangerous. “I should have you three in chains for the stunt you pulled last night.”  
  
“But—“ Raina tried.  
  
“Silence,” Cara interrupted. She hadn’t raised her voice. There wasn’t any need. Anger was radiating off of her, and her Mord’Sith knew they were one wrong word away from spending a week hanging from their wrists. “You will tell me what in the hell you thought you were doing and pray your explanation is to my satisfaction.”  
  
Raina looked to Berdine, who looked to Denna, who looked between the two of them and sighed when she realized they expected her to answer. “Mistress,” she began cautiously. “We were… concerned.”  
  
“Concerned?” Cara repeated, her lips forming a sneer around the word.  
  
“I think what Denna means is that we noticed you were acting differently,” Berdine said, trying to diffuse the situation. “We thought perhaps you had found yourself in a situation in which you required assistance.”  
  
“Apparently we were right,” Denna added quietly.  
  
“Excuse me?” Cara growled.  
  
“When we found you, you were surrounded by police officers. I think it’s fair to say that Kahlan woman—“  
  
“Enough!” This time, Cara did raise her voice. She would not allow Denna to speak ill of Kahlan. “She is of no consequence. You will not interfere any further.”  
  
“Yes, Mistress,” the three of them replied, none of them convinced, but neither were they willing to press the issue.  
  
Cara relaxed, if only slightly. “We have more pressing matters at hand. Tonight we will take the first step in acquiring the Stone of Tears. We need to be on top of our game. Take your stances.”  
  
“All three of us?” Berdine questioned. They usually sparred one on one.  
  
Cara raised an eyebrow. “Did I stutter?”  
  
Berdine exchanged a glance with Raina and Denna, seeing that they both shared her confusion. Still, Cara’s word was final. They had to obey.  
  
The Mord’Sith spread out, forming a wide circle around their leader. They each took a stance, limbs taught, balancing on the balls of their feet. Cara, never moving from her standing position, eyed them all in turn and smirked.  
  
“Don’t keep me waiting.”  
  
Predictably, it was Denna who attacked first. She charged with a loud bellow, jumping at the last moment, aiming to drive her knee into Cara’s stomach. Cara caught her mid air and effortlessly threw her to the ground. Denna’s back met the mat with a sickening thwack, forcing the air from her lungs. She coughed and wheezed, unable to catch her breath. One down already.  
  
 _Pathetic._  
  
Cara didn’t have time to voice her derisive remark. Berdine was on her in a flash. The brunette feigned to the right before she brought her left fist around to connect with Cara’s jaw.  
  
Cara smiled wildly.  _That’s more like it._  She snaked her tongue out to graze over her split lip, savoring the coppery tang of blood.  
  
Landing a blow had given Berdine a false sense of confidence, and she mimicked Cara’s grin. Cara could only shake her head at the Mord’Sith’s premature cockiness. She thought Berdine would have known better by now. She would just have to remind her.  
  
Berdine began a furious offensive, aiming quick jabs at Cara’s front and sides. The blonde absorbed each strike, drawing her opponent closer, waiting for an opening. Berdine landed an uppercut, and Cara used the momentum to spring back onto her hands, pushing off the ground to kick Berdine square in the chest. She twisted at the last moment and settled into a crouch as Berdine fell behind her. Two down.  
  
Raina had been closer than she expected. Cara could see the rage etched into her countenance, the rage that always came forth when anyone laid a hand on Berdine. Cara had counted on it. Finally, she would get a worthy fight.  
  
 A kick came flying towards her head. With incredible speed, Cara flipped to her side and evaded the blow. Another kick, a flurry of fists and elbows. She dodged them all easily, spinning this way and that, using the strength of her arms and legs to perform a series of handsprings and aerials that made her untouchable.  
  
Raina only pushed herself harder. She managed to graze Cara’s thigh with the heel of her foot, knocking the blonde off balance if only for a moment. She only needed a moment. Her black braid whipped around as she followed with a roundhouse to the ribs. It wasn’t until she felt Cara’s arm wrap around her calf that she realized her mistake. Cara’s free hand came to grab the back of her neck, and she yanked Raina down to meet her knee. The force of the blow was enough to knock her unconscious, and Raina collapsed in a heap.  
  
Cara rolled her neck and admired her handiwork. One Sister knocked out, another groaning and cradling her chest, and the last still trying fruitlessly to take in air. It had been a short fight, disappointingly so, but it had done the job. For now.  
  
“Get up,” she said easily, showing no indication that she had just faced off against three able fighters. Able, after all, was not even close to her caliber.  
  
Denna stood, slowly but surely, her chest heaving with each laborious breath. Berdine crawled over to Raina and woke her with a few terse shakes before they both came to their feet. The smaller brunette was still groggy, having to lean on her lover to stay upright.  
  
“Clean yourselves up,” Cara drawled. “Then go over the dossiers I’ve sent you. I expect you to know them word for word by tonight. You have eight hours.”  
  
The Mord’Sith bowed their heads in assent and turned to go.  
  
“Raina,” Cara called. “A word.”  
  
The petite woman shared a worried glance with Berdine before giving her a halfhearted reassuring smile. “It’s okay. I’ll be there in a moment.”  
  
Once they were alone, Raina adopted a stony mask and faced Cara. She couldn’t meet her eyes, partly in fear, but also in shame. Her mistake the night before had weighed heavily on her mind. She knew it must have stirred up memories; ones that Cara had worked tirelessly to dispel. And with a single word, she had brought them all back. Whatever punishment Cara carried out, Raina knew she deserved it.  
  
Cara approached her slowly and reached out. Raina flinched as her hand cupped her jaw, lifting her head to meet Cara’s gaze. The blonde examined her methodically, pursing her lips as if in thought.  
  
“You should ice your forehead,” she said at last and released her hold.  
  
Raina blinked, not understanding. “Mistress?”  
  
“Hurry, before the bruise sets in.”  
  
“But I…” Raina sputtered. “I don’t understand. I thought…”  
  
“That I’d whip you bloody and pour salt in your wounds?” Cara offered.  
  
“At the very least. I deserve nothing less.”  
  
Cara furrowed her brow. Not so long ago, she would have agreed. Now, though, Kahlan’s words rang in her head, and she found that try as she might, she could not fault Raina for her mistake, or the wounds it had reopened. Those wounds were her own.  
  
Her hand drifted unconsciously to her right side, just below her breast. Even through the fabric of her sports bra she could feel the thick line of scar tissue, the one every Mord’Sith had. But then her fingers traveled lower, to the second line, a twin of the first. One that she alone bore. The first was a symbol, a ritual, a birthright. This second was a reminder.  
  
“You made a mistake,” Cara said, and had to pause before forcing herself to continue. “I know that it was not your intention to… hurt me.”  
  
Raina gaped at her. “Of course not, Mis—“  
  
“And stop with the Mistress already. The three of you dropped that formality long ago, no need to start with it again.”  
  
“Alright. Cara.” Raina began to leave. She stopped suddenly and turned back, chewing at the inside of her cheek. “Cara?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I just want you to know…” She paused to gather her resolve. “I just want you to know that if that bitch were still alive I’d make her bleed for what she did to you. We all would.”  
  
Cara swallowed thickly. There had never been any doubt that her Mord’Sith were loyal; it was one of the few emotions that they readily embraced. But to hear proof of such unerring devotion was rare, and it took her by surprise. The gratitude she felt at Raina’s words unnerved her, and so she dismissed the woman with a terse nod.  
  
Just outside, Berdine had been waiting for Raina, the only outward evidence of her unease being the nonstop drumming of her fingers against her thigh. When her lover finally emerged, she rushed to embrace her, burying her face in the crook of her neck.  
  
“Oh, thank God,” she whispered. “I thought she was going to beat you within an inch of your life.”  
  
“Me too,” Raina admitted, still in shock that Cara hadn’t done just that.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
Raina shook her head as well as she could while it was pressed to Berdine’s chest. “She forgave me.”  
  
Berdine pulled back to give Raina a disbelieving look, sure she had misheard. “She what?”  
  
“She forgave me,” Raina repeated. “Just like that.”  
  
Berdine let that sink in. “I’m not sure if I should be grateful or terrified.”  
  
Raina pulled her in for another hug. “Neither am I.”  


 

—

  
Kahlan left Richard’s around six fiercely determined. He had spent the entire game, and a few hours after, passionately insisting she make a move with Cara.  
  
“It’s a hard world we live in,” he had told her. “All we can hope for is someone to stand by our side while we face it. And if there’s even a chance Cara could be that someone for you, you can’t let that pass you by.”  
  
It had been those words that finally convinced her. She was going to do it. Nothing was going to stand in her way this time, not fear, not insecurity, nothing. Because there was a chance, a damn good chance, that Cara was her someone. She felt it in her bones, in every fiber of her body.  
  
Her drive home was a blur of skipped heartbeats and futile attempts at calming deep breaths. Kahlan didn’t remember pulling into her driveway, didn’t remember getting out of her car and walking to Cara’s door, but that’s where she found herself. She forced herself to ring the bell before her courage failed.  
  
 _Oh, fuck,_ her mind supplied the second she heard the chime echo through Cara’s house and the resulting bark from Dog. She wondered for a moment if she still had time to run away. But no, she was there, and she had made up her mind. There was no going back now.  
  
It seemed an eternity before the door finally opened, though it had only been a few seconds. Kahlan’s mouth nearly dropped at the sight of Cara, who had yet to change from her workout before. She couldn’t stop herself from raking her eyes over the blonde’s body: an exquisite expanse of flawless golden skin, the perfect balance of toned muscles and delicate curves.  
  
“Kahlan?”  
  
Kahlan’s eyes shot up to Cara’s, which surveyed her with a mix of bewilderment and amusement. “Huh?”  
  
“You rang my doorbell,” the blonde reminded her.  
  
“Right!” she exclaimed, all of a sudden remembering what she had gone there to do. “Are you busy?”  
  
“I’ve got a business meeting to get to but I have a few minutes. Do you need something?”  
  
 _I need something very badly,_ Kahlan thought. “There’s something I have to do,” she told Cara, “and then there’s something I have to ask you.”  
  
Cara raised an eyebrow. “Is the thing you have to do be cryptic? Because you’ve already got that part down.”  
  
Kahlan grinned and shook her head. “Just shut up,” she husked and surged forward.  
  
Their mouths met forcefully, drinking, discovering, devouring. The kiss was hungry and hard, contrasted only by the softness of their lips. Cara’s tongue darted out to sweep across Kahlan’s bottom lip, begging, pleading for entrance, and she happily obliged, letting it meet and twirl against her own. Cara’s hands came up to hold her closer, one at the small of her back and the other at her cheek, thumbs stroking sinuous circles. Kahlan moaned, long and low, oblivious to everything but the way Cara was kissing her, the way she tasted, like honey and berries, sweet and sharp, and the way pleasure coursed through her body, every nerve on fire.  
  
Her hands found Cara’s hips and she nearly whimpered at the feeling beneath her palms, smooth and supple and impossibly warm. She wanted so much to feel that body against her own, nothing between them. Her pulse raced at the mere thought of it. If Cara could make her feel like this from a kiss alone, she couldn’t imagine what other pleasures that wicked mouth could elicit.  
  
They finally parted when the need for air became too great. Cara rested her forehead on Kahlan’s, her fingers running idly through silky raven tresses. Their heavy breaths mingled, eyes met, pupils blown, full of lust and longing and unspoken promises.  
  
“What was it you wanted to ask me?” Cara murmured, her lips brushing Kahlan’s, sending shivers down both their spines.  
  
“I…” Kahlan thought for a moment and laughed breathlessly. “I can’t remember.”  
  
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Cara said before kissing her again, tenderly this time, but with just as much fervor. Still, it was different than the first, a curious exploration, a savoring of each second, as if she never wanted it to end. And it wouldn’t have, if only Cara hadn’t someplace to be.  
  
“As much as I’m enjoying this…”  
  
“You have a meeting,” Kahlan finished between kisses.  
  
“Mhmm,” Cara hummed into her mouth.  
  
“They can’t manage without you?”  
  
“Afraid not.”  
  
Kahlan pulled back reluctantly. “I won’t keep you, then.”  
  
Cara gazed at her for a moment. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”  _For more than one reason._  
  
The brunette beamed at her. “Me too. But when you get back, I’m right next door.”  
  
“I’ll be late.”  
  
“I’ll be up.”  
  
“Then I’ll be there.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
Kahlan bit her lip and nodded. She gave Cara one last kiss, short and sweet, just a peck, really, but a promise of so much more. “I’ll see you later.”  
  
“Later,” Cara agreed.  
  
She watched Kahlan go with a rare smile, a smile that only grew when she closed the door and leaned back against it. She could still feel her, still taste her, and her fingers ghosted over her lips in an attempt to preserve the memory. She caught sight of a furry head poking out from over the back of the couch. Dog looked at her almost smugly.  
  
“Were you watching the entire time?” Cara accused him.  
  
He barked in response.  
  
“Pervy bastard,” she called out as she made her way up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The sooner she got ready, the sooner she could get the job done, and the sooner she could come back.  
  
Back to Kahlan.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mord'Sith take their first step to acquiring the Stone of Tears, and Cara and Kahlan get better acquainted.

The lobby at The Plaza Hotel was lively. New York natives and tourists alike roamed around half drunk and blissfully unaware of anything but their own mundane lives, and Cara took it all in with feigned boredom. She sat in an ornate chair in a far off corner, watching and waiting. That was all she could do for the time being, wait. She hated waiting. It was tiresome and irritating; it was a waste of her prowess. But this assignment called for patience and finesse, and so, she waited.

Denna and Raina were upstairs already, setting the stage, so to speak. Their mark was a permanent resident at The Plaza, a man by the name of Russell Woods, the head of security at the Metropolitan Museum of Arts. The museum had recently installed an entirely new security system in preparation of the arrival of the Stone of Tears. Raina had given Cara the specs and told her, in no uncertain terms, that it was completely foolproof. It would take months to hack, months they didn’t have, and even then, it would only give them a thirty-second window to get in and out. They were good, the best, really, but they weren’t that good. This security system wasn’t a lock they could break. They needed the key. And that key was ten stories up, on the personal computer of Russell Woods. 

Cara had researched Woods intently. Being the sole man in charge of the safekeeping of countless multi-million dollar pieces of art, he was, of course, cautious. Bordering on paranoid, in fact. His hotel room, Cara had learned, was outfitted with a custom lock that required a key card as well as a six-digit pin. His windows were three inch ballistic glass, bulletproof and impossible to cut through. Breaking in would take hours, but it seemed to be their only option.

Or at least it was until Cara checked Woods’ financials. There were the usual expenditures: cab fares, dinners out, bar tabs, and the like. And every Saturday night, like clockwork, a five thousand dollar charge from a company only known as RNC, Inc. A quick Google search turned up nothing on such a company, which told Cara everything. It was a front, and judging by the regularity of Woods’ purchases from RNC Inc., Cara didn’t have to guess as to what it was a front for. This wasn’t her first mark with a weakness for whores. He had made her job easy, really. When the woman arrived, Raina would intercept and incapacitate her, while Denna took her place in order to gain access to the room. That’s when Cara would come in, and the fun could start.

Of course, the fun couldn’t start until the whore actually showed, and so, Cara waited.

Berdine sat on a sofa across from her, just as discontent, but not nearly as willing, it seemed, to pass the time in silence. She was eyeing Cara with that damned look on her face, the one the blonde had come to know well over the years, the one she despised. The one that meant Berdine had something to say and was going to say it no matter what protest Cara offered. The last time Berdine had given her that look it had led to a six-hour conversation and ended with two broken noses. There was a reason Mord’Sith didn’t talk about their feelings, after all. Apparently, though, Berdine had yet to learn that particular lesson. 

“I’d like to thank you.”

Berdine’s inevitable utterance was so far from what Cara had expected that she faltered on her usual automatic response of “Shut up, Berdine.”

“For what?” she asked instead.

“For earlier today. You had every right to kick Raina’s ass.”

“Hmm,” Cara grunted noncommittally. Normally, she would have agreed. But after speaking with Kahlan… well, it sufficed to say that her views considering the appropriate punishment for Raina’s actions had been put into question. 

“You didn’t.”

“Hmm,” Cara said again.

Berdine titled her head the blonde. “I think that’s the first time you’ve shown anyone mercy in at least a decade.”

“It wasn’t mercy,” Cara asserted. “It was…” She paused. _Weak,_ her mind provided. 

“Kind,” Berdine offered.

Cara scoffed. “Mord’Sith are not kind.”

“It wasn’t the act of a Mord’Sith. It was the act of a friend.”

Cara fixed her with a withering glare, one that anyone else would have recoiled from. Berdine, though, had seen it often enough to meet it head on. “Don’t give me your mean face,” she scolded. “I’m trying to thank you; quit being difficult and listen.”

Cara debated pulling out her Agiel and hurling it at the woman, but figured not even a knife in her throat would make her shut up. “Fine,” she grit out, and prepared herself for what would no doubt be an onslaught of _feelings_. 

“You know how much Raina means to me,” Berdine began, her voice becoming soft, as it always did when she spoke of her partner. “It’s so easy to get caught up in the madness of what we do. So easy to lose yourself to the pain. And we both know, without her, I would have lost myself a long time ago.” 

“Berdine,” Cara cut in, ready to defend her Sister. It was true, Berdine was more of a scholar than a Mord’Sith, but she still _was_ a Mord’Sith. She had been broken like all the rest of them. And though Cara would never admit it aloud, Berdine was her favorite Sister, the one she had always been closest with.

“No.” Berdine waved her off. “Don’t make any allowances on my account. It’s common knowledge that I’m not exactly the strongest of Mord’Sith. The only reason Rahl keeps me around is because I speak that damned dead language, or else he’d have let me die and replaced me with someone better suited for this line of work. I barely even survived my breaking. And I’m quite sure I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for her.” Berdine absentmindedly stroked the platinum ring on her right middle finger, the one Raina had given her so long ago, the one that matched Raina’s own. It wasn’t a wedding ring, no; Mord’Sith weren’t allowed to marry, not even each other. It wasn’t a wedding ring, but in a way, it was more. “She is my light in the darkness,” Berdine continued. “She is my strength. She is my constant. Raina is everything I love in this world. And you showed her kindness. So thank you.”

Cara diverted her eyes, finding herself no longer able to hold Berdine’s gaze. She could count on one hand the number of times someone had offered her gratitude, and even less was the number of times she had deserved it. Whether or not she deserved it now she wasn’t sure, but she was sure that, warranted or not, the words _thank you_ made her decidedly uncomfortable. “I hate it when you wax poetic,” she finally murmured dismissively. 

“Cara—“ 

“You need to stop reading Keats.” 

“You know I hate Keats. Now stop being an idiot and say you’re welcome.”

Cara huffed, and Berdine knew she had won. “You’re welcome,” she muttered. 

Berdine grinned at her. “Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“Fuck yourself in the ass.”

Berdine promptly ignored that suggestion. “There’s still something I haven’t been able to figure out, though,” she mused, and Cara groaned. She should have known the conversation wouldn’t end there. Berdine paused and chewed her lip, trying to figure out how to best broach the subject. “Do you have feelings for her? 

“Raina?” Cara asked, though she knew very well whom Berdine meant.

“The busty detective,” Berdine clarified needlessly.

“Her name is Kahlan,” Cara growled.

“Yes, I know.” The brunette barely schooled her smile at Cara’s reaction. “So?”

“So what?”

“Are you keen on her or not?”

“Keen on her?” Cara rolled her eyes. “What are you, thirteen?” 

“You can hardly expect me to keep up with the lingo these days,” Berdine countered. “And you didn’t answer the question.”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t asked it in such a stupid—“

“Cara, you’re not getting out of this. You can either answer me now or you can continue deflecting and answer me hours from now when I start annoying you.”

“You’re annoying me now,” the blonde retorted. 

“Can you for one second not act like a petulant child?” 

Cara raised an eyebrow. “I’m not exactly sure what petulant means, but it sounds insulting, so I’m going to go ahead and take offense to that.” 

Despite herself, Berdine laughed, and Cara even cracked a grin. 

“Never mind,” the brunette said with a sigh. “I rescind the question.” 

“What, just like that?” 

“Just like that.” 

“Nearly twenty years I’ve known you and not once have you given up so easily.” 

“I haven’t given up,” Berdine corrected. “I just figured it out for myself.” 

Cara very nearly squirmed in her seat. “Whatever you think—“

“Don’t even try it,” Berdine cut her off.

Cara let out a frustrated puff of air and rested her head in her hand, rubbing hard circles at her temples. She was an exceptional liar; she could even pass a polygraph if need be, but she couldn’t for the life of her ever get something past Berdine. “Is it really so obvious?” 

The brunette shrugged. “To me, yes.” 

“That’s just fucking brilliant,” Cara grumbled. 

“For what it’s worth,” Berdine said at length, “I think she might be good for you.” 

“Yeah,” Cara mumbled back haltingly. “I think she might be.” A thought occurred to her then, and her head snapped up. “If you tell Denna any of this, I will pull your spinal chord out through your throat.”

“Delightful,” Berdine chirped, not fazed in the slightest. “But you don’t have to worry about Denna. She’s under the impression you only want to… oh, how’d she put it… get your dick wet.”

Cara relaxed at that and allowed herself a smirk. “She always has had a way with words.” She felt her phone go off in her pocket then, and took it out to check the message. “Speak of the devil. Let’s go."

Berdine grabbed the laptop bag at her feet and followed Cara, who was already halfway across the lobby. She managed to catch up just as Cara entered one of the elevators, nearly getting caught in the closing doors. “In a hurry, are we?”

Cara hit the button for the tenth floor and grunted.

 

—

 

Looking at Russell Woods propped up in one of his hotel room chairs, Cara could see why he had taken to hiring prostitutes. He wasn’t a day over forty, but his thinning hair was already predominantly gray, and his pasty skin was unfavorably wrinkled. In his unconscious state, thanks to one of Denna’s infamous chokeholds, his mouth hung open, allowing a thin strand of drool to stretch from his thin bottom lip to the lapel of his, no doubt expensive, suit. His hands were bound tightly behind him with a band of thick leather. A zip tie might have been sturdier, but the Mord’Sith were nothing if not traditionalists, and leather wouldn’t leave marks.

Cara looked to her left, where Berdine and Raina hovered over Woods’ computer, an almost identical frown on their faces. “Having trouble?”

Raina scowled. “The computer has a failsafe. If we so much as try to use a decoder, it will fry the hard drive. We’re going to need to get the password from him.”

Cara’s eyes glinted in satisfaction as she took a seat across from Woods, crossing her legs almost lazily. “I was so hoping you’d say that. Don’t get too comfortable; this will be quick." 

“I thought you liked to play with your food,” Denna purred.

“Not tonight.” Denna gave her a curious stare at that, but a well-practiced glare from Cara stopped her from voicing the inquiry. “Wake him.”

Denna thought Cara’s attitude odd, but she wasn’t willing to question it and risk taking an ass kicking like she had only hours before. Her back still screamed in protest when she moved the wrong way. It was better, she figured, to comply now and find out the reason for her Mistress’s strange behavior later.

She took a stick of smelling salts from between her cleavage, which was on prominent display in the tight, short black dress she had worn for the assignment, and cracked it down the middle, waving it under Woods’ nose. The man woke with a start, his head snapping around comically as he took in his surroundings, all the while struggling fruitlessly against his bindings. 

“What the fuck?” he demanded. 

Denna promptly smacked him over the head. “Watch your fucking mouth.” 

Cara waved at her vaguely, and Denna huffed before backing away. Woods looked at the Mord’Sith leader then, eyes narrowing, seemingly still unaware of the severity of his situation. “Untie me. Now.” 

Cara raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“You have no idea who you’re messing with,” Woods raged on. “The second I get out of this chair I’m going to strangle every last one of you. Do you have any idea who I am? I will—“ 

Cara casually pulled her Agiel from the holster at the small of her back and the man’s words caught in his throat, his eyes going wide to the point of bulging out of his head. She cocked her head at him. _How quickly the tables turn._

“I wouldn’t be making threats if I were you, Mr. Woods,” she drawled, idly twirling the weapon in her hand, letting the light catch and glint off of the blade. 

“Who are you?” he asked, keeping up a false sense of bravado, though his eyes kept flicking back between Cara’s and the Agiel in her hands. 

Cara leered. “You may call me Mistress.”

“I’m not into that dominatrix shit,” Woods mocked.

The Mord’Sith’s leer turned into a snarl, and in the blink of an eye she was on her feet, her free hand wrapped around the man’s throat. “I am not one of your whores,” she growled as she pressed hard at the sides of his neck, cutting off circulation. “The next time you insult me will be your last. Do you understand?” 

Woods was beginning to turn purple. “Yes,” he grunted.

Cara gripped harder. “Yes what?” 

“Yes, Mistress.” 

Cara held him a moment longer before releasing him. He shook his head furiously, trying to reestablish the blood flow, as Cara took her seat again.

“You have something I need, Mr. Woods.”

“Please, just tell me what you want,” he griped.

Cara pointed towards the computer with her Agiel. “The password.”

Woods’ eyes flicked to where she was pointing, and something clicked for him. “You want the museum’s security override.”

“Very good,” Cara deadpanned.

“You’re going to try to steal the Stone of Tears,” he whispered, as if dumbstruck by the very idea. 

“Try?” Cara smirked. “No.” 

“It’s impossible. Even with the alarms down there are mechanical—“ 

“We know all about your little security measures,” Cara interrupted, beginning to get fed up with Woods’ blabbering. “The password. Now.”

“I can’t. I’d lose my job.” 

Cara’s nostrils flared, and with a flick of her wrist, she sent her Agiel flying towards Woods’ crotch. It just grazed the seam of his pants and imbedded itself in the seat of the chair. Cara was on her feet again before Woods had time to scream, pulling his head back by his hair to look straight into his eyes.

“You will tell me,” she hissed, “or you will lose much more than that.”

“Oh, God,” he began to sob. “Please, no, please. Let me go, please.” 

Cara flung his head back and straightened up with an exasperated grunt. She wasn’t a patient person to begin with, and her already limited supply was dwindling quickly. She knew, without a doubt, that she would get the password from Woods sooner or later. But Kahlan was waiting for her, and as much as she enjoyed her work, she would much rather go home to finish what the detective had started. 

Woods was now wailing, which annoyed Cara to no end. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “Stop that.” 

He didn’t. Cara looked to each of her Mord’Sith, who all shrugged. Obviously, they too had expected Woods to have at least some semblance of a backbone. As it were, Cara did the only thing she could think of to stop the man’s cries: she Spartan kicked him in the chest. Woods flew a foot back before the chair toppled to the ground. The wind knocked from his lungs, Woods could only wheeze as Cara sauntered up beside him and dropped into a crouch. 

“I’m not sure if you are aware,” she said lowly, trailing the knuckle her index finger along Woods’ chest, “but there are a number of ways one can inflict pain without so much as leaving a mark.” Her knuckle stopped at the center of his abdomen, and she drove it in forcefully. Woods’ mouth opened wide with a scream he could not voice. Cara grinned wildly. “This is one of my favorites. Just a hint of pressure to the xiphoid process and it feels like your lungs are going to burst at the seams. It’s a most exquisite pain, don’t you agree?” 

She laughed quietly, menacingly, and pushed a little harder. Woods was flailing as best he could while tied to the chair, trying, and failing, to stop the fire spreading through his chest. “I wouldn’t struggle too much. You don’t want the bone to snap now, do you?”

The man’s eyes went wide, and despite the agony, he stilled.   

Cara hummed in approval. “You would have made an amusing pet. It’s a shame I don’t have the time to train you properly. Now. Tell. Me. The password.” 

Still unable to talk, Woods gave a weak nod to show he would cooperate. Cara removed her finger, and he sucked air in greedily, coughing and sputtering. “Diaspora,” he gasped. “The password is diaspora.” 

Cara turned to Berdine, who quickly typed it in, and the computer whirled to life immediately. “We’re in,” she affirmed and glanced at her watch. “Four minutes, twenty-seven seconds. You’re getting rusty.” 

Cara smirked and looked to her captive once more. 

“Make it quick,” he pleaded. 

The Mord’Sith raised an eyebrow. “Make what quick?”

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you? I’ve seen your faces. I know you’re coming for the Stone.”

Cara gave another humorless laugh and pulled a small syringe from her breast pocket. “Why, Mr. Woods,” she drawled as she removed the cap from the needle, “you’re under the impression that you will remember any of this.”

 

—

 

“Come on, come on, come on,” Kahlan muttered into her phone. Leave it to Richard, who was constantly fiddling with his phone, to not pick it up the one time she needed him. She was about to hang up once again when she heard him answer. 

“Hey, partner.” 

“Where have you been?” she nearly shrieked. “I’ve called you like five times.” 

“Well, hello to you, too,” he responded cheekily. “I’m fine, thanks, you?”

“Don’t get cute, Cypher.”

“I don’t know; that’s gonna be hard,” he joked. “Everyone pretty much agrees I’m adorable.”

“Richard…” 

“I think it’s the eyes.” 

“Richard!” 

“Alright, alright, sorry,” he chuckled. “What’s up?”

“Dane just called me,” she told him. “They found a dead dealer in a meth lab they busted and they need someone from Homicide to go in on the case.” 

“So?” 

“So, I was wondering if you could take this one for me?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t question why she wasn’t going herself. 

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” he agreed. 

Kahlan breathed out a sigh of relief. “Awesome, you’re the best. Shoot Dane a text and he’ll give you the address and—“ 

“Hold on,” Richard stopped her. “Why can’t you go?” 

 _God damn it._ She should have known better than to think she could get something by her partner at this point. “I have a thing,” she replied offhandedly. 

“A thing?”

“I’m expecting someone,” Kahlan deflected again.

“Someone,” he repeated, and she could practically hear his eyebrows waggling. “Would that someone be a certain neighbor of yours?”

Kahlan paused. “Maybe.” 

“And why would she be coming over?” he teased. “There something you’re not telling me, partner?” 

“Ugh!” Kahlan grunted. “Fine, alright, you caught me. I kissed Cara.”

Richard’s resulting whooping forced Kahlan to pull the phone away from her ear lest she go deaf. “Hell yeah! That’s what I’m talking about, Amnell!” 

“Who’s Cara?” came another voice, one that Kahlan knew well. 

“Zedd?” 

“Yeah, hey,” her Captain confirmed. “Who’s Cara?”

“Richard, have I been on speaker phone this whole time?” 

“Umm,” the man hummed. “Little bit.” 

“Fantastic,” she grumbled.

“Sorry, I needed my hands free. We were eating.”

“When are you not?”

“Rude,” Zedd cut in.

“Richard,” Kahlan sighed. “Can you just…” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“But I want to know who Cara is,” Zedd complained.

“Gramps,” Richard said as he picked up the phone and took it off speaker, “just finish your taco.” 

Kahlan didn’t hear the Captian’s reply, but she guessed it was something delightfully vulgar judging by Richard’s resulting indignant cry of “Zedd!” She couldn’t help but chuckle. She had spent many an off day with Richard and the Captain, and despite the differences in both age and rank, she had become close with Zedd. That didn’t mean, though, that she wanted him hearing about her romantic dealings. If the past were any indication, he would probably try to give her advice via another raunchy tale from his youth, and Kahlan had heard enough of those to last her a lifetime.

“Alright, I’m out of the room,” Richard told her. “So the kiss. How was it? Scale of one to ten.” 

Kahlan felt her lips tingle and her heart flutter at the mere memory of it. “There is no number high enough.” 

“That good?” 

“Better.” 

“Niiiiice.” Richard giggled. “Details. Come on, I want to know everything.” 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” 

“At least tell me if there was tongue!” he pleaded. 

Kahlan rolled her eyes at her partner’s giddiness. “Fine, yes, there was tongue. But that’s all I’m saying.” 

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Richard grumbled. “Oh! What about the other thing?” 

“The other thing?”

“Yeah. What’d she say when you asked her how she felt?” 

Kahlan bit her lip. “About that…” 

“You did ask, didn’t you?” 

“I was going to,” Kahlan insisted. “I really was. I planned the whole thing out. And then I kissed her and… well… I kinda sorta forgot.” 

“You forgot?” Richard laughed boisterously. “Oh, God, that’s priceless.” 

“It’s not funny!”

“It really is,” he said, still chortling. 

“You know what? Just for that, I’m not going to tell you a thing about what happens tonight.” 

His laughter stopped abruptly. “You wouldn’t.” 

“Watch me.” Her doorbell rang then, and Kahlan couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across her face. “That’s her now. Gotta go, Cypher. Have fun at your crime scene while I… oh, but you’re never going to know what I’m going to do, are you?” 

“Dude, that’s so not fai—“ She hung up before she could finish his sentence, tossed her phone onto the couch, and made her way to the door. 

In the few hours she had spent waiting for Cara, Kahlan had gone through multiple scenarios as to what would happen when the woman did arrive. She would ask what she had forgotten to before, of that she was certain. What Kahlan couldn’t predict was Cara’s answer. The blonde hadn’t seemed to mind her actions earlier. In fact, Kahlan could say quite confidently that she enjoyed them. But whether that enjoyment was based solely on carnal desires or on deeper feelings was still unclear. Kahlan had imagined at least a dozen conversations, attempting to cover every possible answer Cara could give her, in an effort to prepare herself for whatever was to come. The thing was, every one of her fantasized encounters was just that, a _conversation_. And so, Kahlan was completely unprepared for Cara stepping into her house, grabbing the front of her shirt, and pulling her into a bruising kiss the second she opened the door. 

Kahlan barely managed to even realize she was being kissed, and quite skillfully, before she was spun around, the force of her body slamming the door closed behind her as she was pressed up against it. Instinct took over, and she started to respond, meeting every movement of Cara’s lips with her own, giving as good as she got. Her fingers wove through soft blonde hair, tugging, and Cara growled in response, a low, primal sound that sent a wave of pleasure shuddering through Kahlan’s body. She was on fire, every inch of her, unable to speak or think or do anything but burn.  

Cara’s tongue was in her mouth, her hands on her hips, pulling her closer, always closer, so close than Kahlan was sure Cara could feel her heart about to burst right through her chest. Her head was spinning, her ears ringing, her breath coming in heavy pants and strained moans. There was a sharp tugging in the pit of her stomach, an unbearable throbbing between her thighs. It was all too much, and not nearly enough. 

Cara’s lips made their way to her neck, and Kahlan took in some much needed air as the blonde kissed and licked and nipped at her pulse point. The abrupt influx of oxygen cleared her mind, and she groaned as her thoughts clashed with her body. 

_Can’t… only known her… God, she smells good. And that tongue. I want that tongue— no! Focus, Kahlan!_

“Cara,” she managed to say.

“Mmm?” came the muffled reply. 

And Kahlan hesitated, because she still hadn’t decided which side she should listen to. The fact that Cara’s thigh had chosen that moment to press against her increasingly wet center did nothing to help matters. 

“Holy fuck.” She rolled her hips, groaning at the friction, then immediately berated herself. She wanted it; she wanted it more than she could remember wanting anything… but it was just too soon. “Cara. Cara, please.” 

Cara immediately froze. She had heard that word countless times. In situations like this, when please meant more, and in situations much more violent, when please meant stop. The way Kahlan had said it sounded strikingly like the latter. She pulled back enough to see Kahlan’s face. There was hunger in her eyes, yes, hunger and want and need. 

And there was fear. 

Cara stepped back swiftly, separating them. 

The silence that followed was lengthy, neither knowing what to say, both just looking at the other. The fear was still in Kahlan’s eyes, Cara noticed, and she took a moment to curse herself and her stupid raging libido. 

_Five Goddamn minutes. You couldn’t even keep it in your pants for five Goddamn minutes. You might as well have—_

“Cara.” Kahlan’s voice shook her from her thoughts. She had not spoken Cara’s name in question, or as a preface to anything, but to break the silence. 

Cara realized she should say something. Anything. But what was there to say? 

“I’m sorry,” she finally blurted out. It did not escape her attention that that was the second time she had uttered those words in as many days, words that she couldn’t remember saying before without sarcasm or contempt. With Kahlan, though, she meant them. With Kahlan, she truly was sorry. “I don’t know what came over me,” she went on.  That was a downright lie; she knew exactly what had come over her. Her appetites for violence and sex had always been intimately linked. When one was piqued, the other followed suit, and her work at The Plaza had certainly made her hungry. Too hungry, apparently. “I should go.” 

Kahlan caught her by the arm as she made a move for the door. “Please don’t.” 

Cara looked to Kahlan’s hand on her arm, watched in confusion as in drifted lower until their fingers were woven together. “But I frightened you,” she murmured. “It’s written all over your face.” 

Kahlan stroked Cara’s palm with her thumb. “Usually I’m the one who can read people,” she quipped. 

Cara worked her jaw. “Is that why you’re scared of me? Because you can’t read me?” 

“What?” Kahlan asked, aghast. She brought her free hand to Cara’s cheek, forcing her to look her in the eyes. The blonde flinched at the contact, but thankfully Kahlan hadn’t noticed and went on speaking. “Cara, no. I… I actually like not being able to read you. You can’t imagine what a relief it is, really. And I’m not scared of _you_.” 

Cara shook her head. How was Kahlan not afraid of her? Everyone was afraid of her. “I don’t follow.” 

“Well, I…” Kahlan trailed off, cleared her throat, forced herself to continue. “I remembered what I forgot to ask you before. I guess what scares me is what you might answer.” 

Cara couldn’t begin to guess what Kahlan meant by that. Her mind whirled, trying to figure it out, and came up blank. Finally, she just said, “Ask me.”

Kahlan braced herself and took the plunge. “What are we? To you, I mean. Is it just a physical thing or do you think maybe… well, that maybe it could be more? Because I would like it, I mean, if you would too, for it to be more. Not that the physical would be bad, but that’s not really my thing, you know, and—” 

“Kahlan,” Cara interrupted the brunette’s rambling and paused. She wasn’t sure exactly how to answer. It wasn’t that she didn’t have feelings for Kahlan, but Mord’Sith were taught to compartmentalize, to pack everything up in a box and store it in the farthest recesses of their minds. It wasn’t that she didn’t have feelings for Kahlan; it was that she had no idea how to express them. The words she wanted to speak were words she had never learned. And so, she said the only thing she could think of, and hoped it was enough. “I’ve never let anyone hold my hand before.” 

Judging by the smile that lit up Kahlan’s face, Cara guessed that she had said something right. “I’m glad I’m the first,” the detective said.

Cara closed the already small gap between them. “Me too.” She leaned in, brushing her lips against Kahlan’s, then pulled back with a smirk. “I can kiss you, right?” 

Kahlan batted her shoulder. “Yes, idiot, you can kiss me.” 

And Cara did, slowly, longingly, tenderly. 

“You know,” Kahlan said when they broke apart minutes later. “Just because I stopped you before doesn’t mean I don’t want to…” 

“To let me fuck you senseless?” Cara finished for her. 

Kahlan let loose a sharp laugh. “Yes, that. But I was brought up a certain way. I just think we should get to know each other better first.” 

Cara furrowed her brow and nodded slowly. She’d heard of such a thing: people becoming better acquainted before jumping into bed together. Apparently it was a common practice; but it was a practice she was wholly unfamiliar with, and so she asked Kahlan, “How do we do that?” 

The detective laughed again and slipped out from between her and the door. “Grab a seat on the couch,” she said as she walked off towards the kitchen. “I’ll get us some drinks and show you. What’s your poison?” 

“Cyanide, usually,” Cara responded with a wry smile. _Like a Mord’Sith would ever need poison._  

She took a seat on the couch, and Kahlan soon joined her, handing her a glass. “Sorry, I was all out of cyanide. Hope the arsenic I put in this bourbon will suffice.” 

Cara rolled her eyes and gave a longsuffering sigh. “I suppose it will have to do.” She took a sip, savoring the sweetness on her tongue and the warmth in her belly. She noticed it wasn’t unlike how kissing Kahlan made her feel. “So, what now?" 

“Now we talk.” 

“That’s it?”

Kahlan chuckled. “Yes, that’s it. Haven’t you ever just gotten to know someone before?” 

Cara, looking a bit daunted, shook her head.

Kahlan tried and failed to hold back a grin. _She’s just so cute sometimes._ “Don’t worry, it’s easy,” she promised. “You ask me a question, I ask you a question, repeat. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that,” Cara agreed, then frowned. “Maybe you should go first.”

“Alright.” Kahlan pursed her lips in thought for a moment before asking, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Any question in the world and that’s what you come up with?”

“Oh, shut up,” Kahlan said. “I’d like to see you do better. And you didn’t answer.”

“Red,” Cara replied. “And I can do better.”

“Prove it,” Kahlan dared her. “Dazzle me with your insightful question-asking skills.”

“I will,” Cara insisted, then mentally smacked herself over the head. _You probably should have thought up a question before making that claim, dumbass. Come on, think of something._ Her mind was blank. _Something interesting._ Completely blank. _Anything._ Nothing.

She bit the inside of her cheek, preparing to admit defeat, when her eyes flickered down to Kahlan’s lips. And there it was: her question.

“How’d you get that scar?”

Kahlan, who had been expecting a more general query, if one at all, nodded her head in approval. “Damn, that is better,” she conceded. “It’s a funny story, actually. I was around four; my sister was two. We were playing, right here in this room, when my mom had to drop off something at the neighbor’s. A piece of mail or something, I don’t know. Anyway, she said she’d be right back and told me to take care of my sister. She was only gone thirty seconds, a minute at most. But Dennee was at that age, you know, when she couldn’t bare to be apart from our mom. The second she walked out the door, she starts throwing a fit. I didn’t know what to do; I was only four, so the only thing I could think to do was give her a hug. Well, that would have been fine if she hadn’t been flailing wildly. I lean in, and the toy she was holding catches me on the lip, splits it right in two. God, I can still remember the look on my mom’s face when she came back and found us both wailing, me covered in blood. She didn’t let either of us out of her sight for a second after that.”

Cara, who had been listening intently, stared at Kahlan as she finished. “How is that a funny story?”

Kahlan frowned. “Yeah, maybe funny isn’t the best way to describe it. But it could have been worse. I was lucky she didn’t take my eye out.”

“Lucky is definitely the first word that comes to mind,” Cara deadpanned.

“Alright, wiseass,” Kahlan jabbed playfully. “How about you? You have any?”

“Luck?”

“Scars.”

“Oh.” Cara paused, taking a pull of her drink to cover her faltering. Her fingers twitched around the glass, fighting the urge to graze along her ribs, along the scars that were there. They weren’t the only scars she had, far from it, but they were the ones that mattered. “A few,” she finally answered.

The detective thought back to earlier in the day when she had seen Cara wearing next to nothing, and remembered only flawless bronze skin. “I haven’t noticed any.”

Cara smirked. “Have you been checking me out, Detective?”

Kahlan blushed furiously, but held Cara’s gaze. “It’s kind of hard not to. You don’t exactly cover up.”

“Are you complaining?”

Impossibly, Kahlan turned a deeper shade of red. “No. But you’re going to catch a cold one of these days if you keep dressing so lightly.”

Cara scoffed.

“I’m serious,” Kahlan went on. “Do you even own a winter jacket?”

“No need. I can handle a bit of a chill.”

“What about when it snows?”

Cara had already prepared a snappy comeback, but it froze in her throat. “It’s really going to snow?”

Kahlan was taken aback by the look of wonder on the blonde’s face. “Of course. Haven’t you seen snow before?”

Cara recovered from her moment of awe, replying with as much nonchalance as she could muster. “We don’t get snow in Sydney.”

“Not ever?”

“I believe the last time was in eighteen thirty-five.”

“You’re telling me you never got to play in the snow as a kid?” Kahlan asked in disbelief. “No snowball fights, no forts, nothing?”

Cara snorted. “Like they’d let us even if…” She trailed off at seeing Kahlan’s brow furrow, and she realized she might have said too much.

“They? You mean your foster parents?”

“Not exactly,” Cara said carefully. Kahlan continued to look at her, confused, and she figured she could say a bit more without giving too much away. “The foster home Berdine mentioned, where we all met… well, it was more like a boarding school for orphaned girls. We were under their guardianship, legally speaking, but they weren’t our parents.”

“Who are ‘they’?’”

 _Our Mistresses._ “Our teachers,” she said instead. It wasn’t a complete lie. They had, after all, taught Cara and her Sisters everything they knew.

“Oh,” Kahlan said with a nod, beginning to understand.

Cara was ready to leave it at that, but the way Kahlan was looking at her, honestly curious and without judgment, just wanting to know more about her, made her continue. “I was nine when they died. My parents. It was a car crash, though I guess that doesn’t really matter.  Grace and I, we didn’t have any other family. We were put into the system. I was only in it for a week when they came and took me. They taught me, molded me, put me through college, and when I was ready I started working for Rahl. He, or his family, rather, was the benefactor for all us girls.” 

“That’s very generous of him.”

Cara bit back a scathing remark, trying to keep in mind that Kahlan knew nothing of who Darken Rahl really was, of what he had put her and her Sisters through. “It’s nothing more than sound business strategy,” she said with false calm. “Breeding your own employees, making sure each one is succinctly capable of what you ask of them.” 

Kahlan noticed Cara’s voice was somewhat strained, and seeing as the blonde rarely, if ever, lost even the slightest control of her emotions, she guessed that the conversation had taken a turn Cara was uncomfortable with. Not wanting to call her out on it, she merely changed the subject. “What about Grace?”

Cara’s eyebrow rose. “What about her?”

“Did she go with you?”

“No. No, she was too old.” _They wouldn’t have been able to break her._ “She would have been behind in the curriculum.”

“Did you at least get to see her often?”

Cara shook her head and looked away. “That picture you saw of the two of us was the first time I’d seen her in twelve years.”

“Oh, God,” Kahlan murmured. “Cara, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Cara said. “She has a family now. A husband. Two kids. She has a good life.”

 _A life I don’t belong in_ , she added silently. She had realized that with stark clarity the moment she and her sister were reunited. She had tried to pretend, to act as if she had lived a life as normal as Grace, but her sister knew better. She could tell Cara was different, nothing like the sweet young girl she had parted with all those years ago. That girl had been outgoing and affectionate. The woman barely spoke a word and shied away from every touch. Grace looked at her little sister and saw she was damaged, and Cara couldn’t bare being so transparent. Their meetings since then had always been short and stiff, and Cara knew it was better that way. Grace would always be looking for that little girl, for who Cara used to be, for someone she could never be again. It was merciful, Cara told herself, to keep from Grace how much of a monster she had become.

“Can we talk about something else?” Cara asked, eager to get away from the introspection. 

“Of course. What do you want to talk about?” 

Cara took Kahlan’s glass and placed it, along with her own, on the coffee table. She then grasped Kahlan’s arm and pulled her gently, laying down onto her side and guiding the detective to lie next to her.

Kahlan tried to give her a stern look, which was completely ruined by her grin. “I thought we were going to talk.” 

“We are.” Cara hooked a piece of dark brown hair behind Kahlan’s ear. “I just want to talk like this.” 

“Why?” 

Cara rolled her eyes. “Because I like being close to you. Now shut up and tell me what you did today.” 

“You do realize that’s an oxymoron?”

Cara glared at her. 

“Okay, okay,” Kahlan submitted with a laugh. “Let’s see. Well, first I woke up.”

“Obviously.”

“Took a shower.”

“I like where this is going.”

“Paid some bills.”

“Go back to the shower part.”

Kahlan covered Cara’s mouth with a hand. “Shush. As I was saying, I paid some bills, did a few case reports, then around noon I went over to Richard’s to watch the game.” A muffled question came from behind her hand and she removed it. “Huh?”

“I asked what game.” 

“The Giants game.” Kahlan got a blank stare in response and clarified. “Football.” 

“Oh.” Cara nodded. “You mean pussy rugby.” 

“What?” Kahlan protested. “There is nothing pussy about football.” 

Cara pursed her lips, amused by Kahlan's reaction. “Compared to rugby, football is about as tough as figure skating.” 

“Have you ever actually watched it?” 

“No, but—“ 

“Then you lose this argument. Now stop interrupting me.”

Cara glowered at her, but the corners of her mouth eventually twitched upward, “Alright.” 

Kahlan gave her a peck on the lips. “Good girl. So, I watched the very manly, rugged game with Richard, which we won, by the way. And then…" She trailed off, skimming her fingers down Cara's arm and looking up at her coyly through her lashes. "Well, you know what happened after that.”

Cara narrowed her eyes in mock thought. “Yes, I vaguely remember seeing you earlier today.” 

“Vaguely?” Kahlan asked acting scandalized. “Am I so easily forgotten?” 

Before Cara could stop herself, she answered, “I couldn’t forget you if I tried.” Her eyes went wide at her own admission. _What the fuck was that?_ She had never been one for sappy endearments, but the words had just tumbled out of her mouth. She was about to take it back, or make a flippant excuse, when Kahlan cut her off. 

“Neither could I,” the detective murmured, and Cara Mason very nearly smiled. 

Another silence stretched between the two women, but unlike the first, this one was not because neither could find something to say. It was because nothing needed to be said. Laying in each other’s arms, looking into each other’s eyes, words had become superfluous. Everything they wanted to communicate could be done with a look, a touch, a kiss, and they spoke silently for hours. 

It was holding one another, legs intertwined and lips practically locked, that in the small hours of the night Cara and Kahlan finally surrendered to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, people. I know it's been a while since I last updated (okay, so that's an understatement,) but real life has just been kicking me in the ass lately. I finally got some free time on my hands, so hopefully I can be a lot speedier with my next update. Thanks so much to all of you who read and commented and stuck with me. You guys are the best.

Denna strolled into Berdine and Raina’s loft, the door clicking softly behind her as it closed. They hadn’t locked it, as usual; Mord’Sith rarely bothered with such futilities. Her eyes glanced over the apartment: a large kitchen to the right, probably never used, a modern but comfortable looking living room, littered with books, of course, and a door to the left that no doubt led to the bedroom. Judging by the sounds coming from behind that door, Denna could say with confidence that that was where she would find her Sisters.

She waltzed into the bedroom unannounced, smiling slightly at the sight before her. Berdine was on her back, legs spread lewdly, one hand fondling her own breasts, the other planted firmly on the back of Raina’s head, which was buried between her thighs.

Berdine looked up to meet Denna’s amused gaze and sighed. “A bit busy, here.” 

Raina, to her credit, paid no attention to the interruption, having gotten used to such things back when she and Berdine lived in the Temple at Jandrilyn with fifty equally intrusive Sisters, and didn’t even pause in her ministrations. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” the blonde said, her eyes wide with false innocence. 

“No you’re not.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Why are you— oh, fuck!” Berdine cried out as Raina slid three fingers into her, setting a rapid pace. She let loose a groan before regaining her composure. “What do you want, Denna?”

“It’s not what I want; it’s what the Lord Rahl wants.” 

At that, Raina did raise her head and craned her neck to look at Denna. Berdine made a noise of complaint, which turned into another wanton moan as Raina’s thumb took over the job her tongue had abandoned. 

“You spoke to him?” Raina asked. 

“He called me,” Denna confirmed. “At four in the morning, no less. It seems our dear Lord has yet to master time zones. Or maybe he doesn’t give a shit.” 

“Get to the point, will you?” Raina proposed.

“The point is he only called me because he couldn’t reach our Mistress.” 

Berdine sat up swiftly, pushing Raina away and nearly knocking her off of their bed in the process. “Cara?” 

Denna rolled her eyes. “No, the other Mord’Sith we answer to. Of course Cara.” 

“What do you mean he couldn’t reach her?” 

“She wasn’t answering her phone, cell or landline.”

“You did say it was four in the morning,” Berdine reasoned. “Perhaps she was asleep.” 

Denna scoffed. “Have you ever known Cara to sleep through anything?” 

Berdine didn’t answer, which was answer enough. 

“I think it’s more likely she wasn’t at home,” Denna went on. “Though I haven’t the faintest clue where she would be at that time. Couldn’t have anything to do with how oddly she was acting last night, could it, Berdine?” 

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Really? You didn’t find it strange, how quickly she broke Woods? As if she had some pressing matter to attend to?”

“No,” Berdine asserted. “I didn’t find it strange. Because it is not my prerogative to question my Mistress. Nor is it yours, Denna. You would do well to remember your place.”

“I was only—“ 

“Don’t,” Berdine clipped out, then quickly changed the subject. “What did Lord Rahl want?”

Denna wanted to push the issue. She knew that Berdine was closer to Cara than she or Raina was, that if anyone knew what was going on it was Berdine. She also knew, though, that Berdine was as tightlipped a woman as she had ever met. It was unlikely, if not impossible, that she would get the answers she was looking for, so, for now, she dropped it. “He wanted an update on our progress.” 

“And you told him…?”

“That everything was going as planned. That we have the key to the museum’s alarm system, and that you’re well on your way to decoding the pages we need from Alric’s journal. You are almost finished, aren’t you?” 

“Nearly,” Berdine growled. 

“Good. He expects them to be fully translated before we acquire the Stone.” 

“That won’t be a problem.” 

“What did you say on Cara’s whereabouts?” Raina chimed in. “Surely Lord Rahl was curious.” 

Denna gave the shorter brunette a tight smile. “I said she was likely too busy working to pick up the phone. I may be skeptical, Raina, but I have always been loyal.”

“Yes,” the woman acknowledged. “Yes, you have been.”

“If that’s all,” Berdine said, motioning towards the door.

“Of course,” Denna replied. “I’ll let you get back to your morning routine.” 

After Denna had left, though, Berdine and Raina didn’t pick up where they had left off. The mood had been sufficiently ruined. Berdine was seething, her jaw clenched and her shoulders stiff, and Raina was chewing at the inside of her cheek, eyes narrowed, contemplating. It was a stark contrast to their usual demeanors, the roles reversed, Berdine typically being the intellectual while Raina was known for having a temper as short as her stature. 

Berdine spoke first, anger radiating from her tone. “The gall of that woman! Expects the pages to be translated… I’d like to see her have a go at them. Her brain would likely melt and spill out through her ears.” 

“She was only relaying the message, love,” Raina said distractedly.

“Yes, well, she didn’t have to be so haughty about it.”

“You are almost finished, though, aren’t you?” 

Berdine worked her jaw. “It’s complicated.”

“That right?”

“I have bits a pieces, but the way the cipher works… it’s dependent on every letter before it. The more I decode, then, the more complicated the cipher gets. It’s quite brilliant, really. Not to mention supremely aggravating.” 

“Ah.” 

Berdine looked to Raina, having expected a more involved answer, or at least one greater than a single word, and was surprised to find her lover deep in thought. 

“Rai?” she called. “What is it?” 

“Hmm? Oh, no, nothing. I was just thinking.” 

“I can see that. What about?” 

“Cara.” 

Berdine groaned. “Not you, too.” 

“You have to admit, it’s odd,” Raina contended. “She has her own reasons for her haste last night and her apparent absence this morning, and I for one am not willing to take another beating to figure out why, but Denna reminded me of something she said the other day that I find even stranger. I didn’t even notice it at the time, but…” 

“What did she say?” 

“In the basement, when she...” Raina stumbled, eyebrows knitting in confusion, “when she forgave me.” 

“I still can’t wrap my head around that one,” Berdine murmured. 

“Neither can I. But the way she said it. She said, ‘I know it wasn’t your intention to hurt me.’” 

“So?" 

“So? Do you remember when we were fifteen? Mistress Nathair had us scaling the temple walls and a piece of the parapet broke off in Cara’s hands. She fell six meters, broke her femur in two places. And when I asked if she was all right, do you remember what she did? She punched me in the kidney.” 

“I don’t see what you’re getting at.” 

“What I’m getting at,” Raina huffed out, exasperated, “is that Cara doesn’t admit to being hurt. I didn’t think she was even capable of it. But she did. She admitted that what I said hurt her. The Cara I know would never have said those words aloud. Something is going on with her.” 

“I suppose,” Berdine said neutrally. 

Raina stared at her, studying her features. Mord’Sith were generally unreadable, trained to give nothing away, but Raina had known Berdine too long and knew her too well to be duped by her blank mask. “You know something.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Berdine responded quickly. Too quickly, in fact. Raina had been suspicious before; now she was sure. 

“Berdine, don’t lie to me. We don’t keep secrets from each other. Everyone else, but not each other." 

Berdine went back and forth between keeping up the act of ignorance or conveying what she knew, and in the end she opted for the latter. She and Raina told one another everything, and that wasn’t a habit she ever wanted to break. 

Besides, technically Cara had only ordered her not to tell Denna. 

She took Raina’s right hand in her own, letting their rings touch. 

“I remember it perfectly, you know, the time we first me,” she started. “One month into our training, when they took us out of our individual cells and put us into groups of eight. You, me, Cara, Denna, Dahlia, Triana, Rikka, and Hally. We were still so scared. All of us, except Cara. She told us there was nothing to be afraid of anymore, because we had each other. We had our Sisters. She told us to take another’s hand in our own. She told me to take yours. And when I did, and I looked into your eyes… Raina, in that second, I loved a lifetime. I knew I would always be by your side, and you by mine.” 

“That’s sweet, love, but I don’t see what this has to do with—“ 

“I wasn’t finished,” Berdine interrupted gently. “Despite all my knowledge, despite all logic, I firmly believe that there is a perfect match for everyone. Someone who will utterly complete you. The person you were meant to be with. I was lucky enough to find my other half. True, it was in a dungeon where we spent eighteen hours a day being beaten and whipped and nearly killed, but that’s beside the point. I found my person. And I think Cara might have found hers.” 

“Surely you aren’t talking about Dahlia?” 

“Of course not. Cara and Dahlia loved each other, yes, but they weren’t meant to be together. They were like two addicts, enabling every horrible characteristic in the other. They made each other worse. The person you’re meant to be with should make you better. Like how you make me better.” 

“Better at what?” 

Berdine laughed lightly. “Just better.” 

“So who…“ Raina trailed off, realizing suddenly what Berdine was saying. “You mean Cara’s in love with the busty detective?” 

“Don’t let Cara hear you call her that. She nearly ripped my head off when I did. And, no, I don’t think she is. But I think she could be, if she let herself.” 

“But that’s… just…” Raina sputtered. “That wouldn’t be a good thing, Berdine.” 

“I think it would, actually.” 

Raina’s mouth came very close to dropping open. “Are you insane?” 

“No, Raina, I’m not,” Berdine insisted. “I remember what Cara was like seventeen years ago. She was the kindest of us all, the sweetest, the most innocent. It’s girls like that who make the strongest Mord’Sith. As kind and sweet and innocent as they were then, that’s how wicked and vicious and evil they became once they were broken. Cara is a spectacular Mord’Sith. The best, I’d say. But even she, whether she admits it or not, would do anything to gain back her humanity. We all would. We are broken, the shattered pieces of ourselves cut and tear at us, and as much as we’re used to the pain, as much as we might revel in it, we want it to stop. You make it stop for me, Raina. You make me forget sometimes that I’m broken. You make me feel human again. And Cara deserves that, too, more than anyone else I know.” 

Raina was silent for a long time, and when she finally spoke, it was in a whisper. “She does,” she agreed. “Though I doubt the Lord Rahl will react well when he learns of this.” 

“He’s halfway across the world. It’s likely he’ll never find out.” 

“But the risk—“ 

“It’s worth the risk,” Berdine said definitively. “She’s starting to feel again, Rai. She’s starting to feel something besides contempt or annoyance or anger. When she talked about that woman… you should have seen her. She looked almost happy again. And, no, it might not work out. It probably won’t; I know that. A Mord’Sith and a detective is hardly a match made in heaven. But if Cara could take anything away from their time together, even just the knowledge that she _is_ still able to feel happiness, it would be worth it.” 

“You really think she’s capable? Of feeling happiness again?” 

Berdine smiled weakly. “I hope so. Because the way she’s going, the way she’s been the past year… you know what I’m talking about. She’s—“ 

“Empty.” 

“Exactly,” Berdine whispered, her stomach churning as she thought about what happened nearly twelve months before. “It changed her, Rai. I know she’s never been particularly emotive, but there was always something. A glint in her eye, or… just _something_. And she needs to get it back. No one can survive on emptiness. Not even a Mord’Sith. Not even Cara.” 

Raina stared at her lover for a moment before shaking her head. “Why do I ever try to argue with you? You’re always right.” 

“I’ve been asking myself that for years, love.” 

“So what do we do? Just let this play out?” 

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. If this is going to happen we might as well have a little fun with it.” 

“You, what, want to play Cupid?” 

“Something along those lines.” 

Raina groaned and flopped down onto the bed. “She’s not going to like that.” 

Berdine shrugged. “Yeah, well, tough shit.”

 

 

 

—

 

Cara rested her elbows on the island counter and inhaled deeply. The aroma of the freshly brewed dark roast she held in her hands was intoxicating. She didn’t usually drink coffee; caffeine tends to cause the hands to shake and Cara liked hers to remain steady. This morning, though, she indulged. The first sip burned her tongue, and she took pleasure in the sting. 

Despite having fallen asleep at nearly four in the morning, Cara had risen with the sun, as always. She had been confused, at first, as to why she woke feeling so warm. She thought maybe Dog had decided to snuggle up against her in the night, even though she had painstakingly broken him of that habit when he was a pup. But no, Dog didn’t have strong arms to wrap around her waist; he didn’t have soft skin to press against her cheek, and he certainly didn’t smell like vanilla and coconut. 

A small smile had tugged at her lips as she remembered where she was, and more importantly, whom she was with. She had thought Kahlan beautiful before, but seeing her in the soft golden light of dawn, looking so peaceful, humming quietly with every exhale, Cara knew that the word beautiful could never do Kahlan Amnell justice. She doubted any word in any language ever could. 

She took another sip of coffee and rolled her shoulders. It was a movement born of habit; she usually woke feeling stiff, needing to work the tension from her muscles each morning. But that tension was absent now, she noted. Her body was strangely relaxed. She felt… _good._  

That realization caused a furrow in Cara’s brow. As a Mord’Sith, she didn’t have an aversion to feeling good, but it wasn’t a common occurrence, and rarely did the feeling come from anything other than violence or sex. And Cara certainly hadn’t had any sex the night before, a fact she was all too aware of thanks to the frustratingly constant throbbing between her thighs. Not that she was complaining. Mord’Sith didn’t complain. If Kahlan wanted her to wait, she was perfectly capable of doing so. Her will was ironclad. She was built to withstand and outlast any challenge. She was unbreakable. 

But _Goddamn it_ was she horny.

It was a state she had become all too familiar with in the last year. Yes, there had been opportunities to abate her hunger, many, in fact. But since _her_ , since… Dahlia. Cara nearly growled as the woman’s name entered her thoughts. Dahlia had ruined her. A woman once fearless and strong, Cara was reduced to nothing but ashes because of that traitor. That’s what she was, a traitor and a liar and a murderer. 

A stunning Mord’Sith, really. 

Cara had once been proud to call Dahlia her lover. Now she shuddered at the thought of ever having had that woman’s hands on her. And in the year since they had parted, Cara found she couldn’t stand anyone’s hands on her. It wasn’t that she was disgusted by others, nor did she lack the desire for intimacy. No, her problem was that no one had since been able to stir the same fire within her, to make her _want_ so badly that her limbs shook and her breath caught in her throat. No one since had made her feel like Dahlia had. 

Until Kahlan. 

Not that she could compare the two. Dahlia and Kahlan could not be more different. True, they were both formidable women: intelligent, strong, willful. But where Dahlia had been sharp, Kahlan was supple. Where Dahlia had been calculating, Kahlan was considerate. And where Dahlia had made Cara hungry, Kahlan made her voracious. 

It was an odd sensation; so different than anything she had known before, and something she had no name for. She briefly considered asking Berdine what it meant, all the things she was experiencing, but dismissed that option quickly. No doubt her hopeless romantic of a Sister would claim it was _love_ or some such nonsense. Cara knew that it wasn’t. She had loved before, and it felt nothing like this. It had been parasitic, destructive. It had lost her something that could never be replaced. No, Cara certainly didn’t love Kahlan, and she never would. But she could come to care for the woman, and care deeply.

It crossed her mind that she might already. Perhaps. A bit. She certainly liked her. But was liking the same as caring? She liked a good, rare steak, but that didn’t mean she cared about the cow it was cut from. 

 _Did you just compare Kahlan to a side of beef?_ Cara groaned. _You’re losing your mind._

She was, in a way, losing her mind. At least to a point. Cara was so used to her thoughts being clear and concise, and around Kahlan, they were jumbled. She said things she didn’t mean to say, things that were true, yes, but things she never wanted to say aloud. Things she had been trained to never even acknowledge. _Nice_ things. Things that she knew would bring a smile to Kahlan’s face.

Cara rubbed at her temples. _Since when do you care about making people smile? You are a Mord’Sith; you’re supposed to make them bleed._

And she had. She had made hundreds bleed, maybe thousands. She had made men and women alike beg for mercy at her feet, made them cry for their mothers long dead, made them obey her every command like mindless slaves. But she had never intentionally made someone smile. 

Until Kahlan. 

 _Will you stop?_ she berated herself. _You sound like an idiot, pining over a woman you just met._

But she didn’t stop. In fact, she couldn’t. Her training was kicking in, trying to turn her mind from such soft thoughts, trying to bury them behind a thousand yards of stone, and failing miserably. Because, truly, she didn’t want to stop. Coveting Kahlan might be silly and impractical and weak, but it made her feel good. 

 _There’s that word again,_ she thought. _You’re getting soft, Cara._  

Having been lost in her mental brooding, Cara didn’t hear Kahlan come into the kitchen until the detective sidled up next to her and placed a kiss on her shoulder. 

“Morning,” she murmured sleepily. 

Cara thoughts were quickly chased away at the sight of Kahlan, her mind going completely blank. She couldn’t help but marvel at the woman, bleary eyed, hair disheveled, and still the loveliest thing she had ever seen. “Morning,” she replied, handing over the still steaming mug. “Looks like you could use this.” 

“Mmm,” Kahlan hummed in agreement and took the offered drink. “Thank you. You’re up early.” 

“Force of habit. Did I wake you?” 

Kahlan shook her head, then took a sip and grimaced. “Oh, God, is this black?” 

Cara gave a rueful smile. “Yeah, probably should have warned you.” 

“It’s alright.” Kahlan put the mug on the counter and wrapped her arms around Cara’s neck. “I’m sure you can think of some other way to wake me up.” 

“Well,” Cara drawled, bringing her hands to Kahlan’s hips and pulling her closer, “I have a few ideas.” 

“A way that involves clothing.” 

Cara frowned. “I have significantly fewer ideas.” 

Kahlan brushed her nose against Cara’s. “Shut up and kiss me.” 

Cara happily complied, pressing her lips to Kahlan’s in a way that was almost chaste, a mere peck compared with the kisses they shared the night before. She pulled back entirely too quickly, in Kahlan’s opinion, and gave the detective an innocent look. “That do the trick?” 

Kahlan smiled against Cara’s lips. “Not quite.” 

Cara kissed her again, longer and deeper, and when she pulled away a second time it was with great effort. “How about that?” she asked, her voice low and throaty. 

Kahlan struggled to find words, managing only to shake her head. Cara smirked and decided to drop all pretenses. In one rapid movement her hands went to Kahlan’s ass and she lifted the woman onto the counter. Kahlan’s surprised yelp was cut short as Cara took her mouth, diving in with lips and teeth and tongue. It was hard and possessive and so incredibly _hot_ that Kahlan nearly melted. No one had kissed her like that before, not even close. They broke apart panting, and Cara gave one last teasing flick of her tongue against Kahlan’s lip. 

“Damn, woman,” Kahlan said hoarsely. 

Cara gave her a self-satisfied grin. “Thought you’d like that.” 

Kahlan took a page from Cara’s book and rolled her eyes. “Do you always have to be so smug?” 

“Yes.” 

“Thought so.” 

“You love it.” 

“Little bit.” 

Cara nodded as if that information were not new to her, and Kahlan laughed. “Oh, Cara.” 

“Yes?” 

Kahlan shrugged. “Nothing. Just you.” 

Cara cocked her head. It was times like these, when Kahlan said things like that, vague and sentimental, that Cara became confused. Her confusion, though, had nothing to do with the woman’s ambiguity. No, Cara knew exactly what Kahlan meant when she said things like “just you,” and that was what confused her. The words were illogical, pure nonsense, with no basis in thought, but they spoke volumes. And Cara heard it all. 

She wanted to say something back. Anything that would let Kahlan knew she understood. But words, as always, failed her. Cara had never been good at voicing her thoughts; she had always been a woman of action. Her lips quirked up into a smile as she realized what to do. Maybe she couldn’t tell Kahlan that she understood, but she could certainly show her. 

“What?” Kahlan asked, noticing Cara’s sudden change in demeanor. 

“Let me take you out tonight. 

“Out?” 

Cara smirked. “Yes, out.” 

“Like to dinner?” 

“Sure.” 

“Where?” 

Cara clicked her tongue a few times, thinking, then asked, “Ever been to Paris?” 

Kahlan guffawed. “You want to take me to dinner in Paris?” 

“Yes.” 

“By the time we’d get there, we’d be having breakfast.” 

Cara looked at her watch. “Hour or so to get to the airport, five and a half hours on the jet—“ 

“You have a jet?” 

“Company jet.” Cara quirked an eyebrow. “I’m sure I could requisition it. Anyway, taking the time difference into account, we would get there…” She paused to do the calculations in her head. “Eight thirty at the latest.” 

Kahlan blinked at her. “You’re insane.” 

“Quite possibly.” 

Kahlan laughed. “Cara, you can’t take me to Paris. I have this thing called a job.” 

Cara sighed in faux exasperation. “Fine. There’s bound to be an adequate restaurant in this country.” 

“In this _state_ ,” the detective emphasized. 

Cara waved a hand in the air. “Details.” 

Kahlan leaned in and kissed her. “You are so cute sometimes.” 

“I am not,” Cara grumbled against her lips. 

“Whatever you say.” 

Cara huffed but didn’t argue further. “What time do you want to go out?” 

“I’ve got to go into the precinct for a while,” Kahlan said. “I’m off duty at six. You going into the city today?” 

Cara shook her head. “I’m working from home, still need to wrap a few things up from yesterday.” 

“Right, your big meeting. I never asked how that went.” 

“Well enough,” Cara told her truthfully. “Guy was being a wanker at first but he came around in the end.” 

Kahlan giggled.

“What?” 

“You said wanker.” 

“Wow,” Cara deadpanned. “Very mature.” 

“You’re the one who said it.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Cara said. “Go to work. I’ll meet you at my place once you’re out.” 

Kahlan grinned. “You’re gonna have to let me off the counter first.” 

“Hmm,” Cara hummed, leaning closer. “In a minute. I like you up there.”

 

 

 

—

 

About an hour later, after a quick breakfast and a badly needed cold shower, Kahlan entered Captain Zorander’s office, a stack of case files in her arms. 

“Amnell,” he greeted with a grandfatherly smile. 

“Hey, Cap.” Kahlan dropped the reports onto his desk. “Here’s everything from the last few days. Except for the Dawkins murder, we’re still waiting on the final M.E. report. Should be in by the end of the day.” 

“And the Kelton case?” 

“I got Fyren to cop to drug trafficking but he isn’t admitting any gang involvement. Not that I expected him to; his brother runs the whole show. Still, we’ve got him on a Class B felony and the D.A. thinks he can get the max.” 

“Fine, fine.” Zedd nodded. “Good work, Amnell.” 

“Thanks, Cap,” Kahlan said and made her way to the door. 

“Kahlan?” 

The detective stopped and turned back towards her Captain. “Yeah?” 

“How’s Cara?” 

Kahlan narrowed her eyes. “Doing recon for your grandson, Zeddicus?” 

“Me?” Zedd shook his head vehemently. “I would never.” 

“Uh huh. Nice try.” Kahlan chuckled and left. 

Her desk, she saw upon sitting down at it, was surprisingly uncluttered. She looked to Richard sitting across from her who was, as always, fiddling with his phone. “No new cases?” 

“Nah,” he answered without taking his eyes from his game. Temple Run, Kahlan guessed, based on the deep concentration he was displaying. “Slow day.” 

“Nothing? Not even a B&E?” 

Richard shook his head. “Nada.” 

Kahlan huffed. She was hoping to catch a quick case before dinner, something to occupy her mind so she couldn’t spend the day just watching the clock, cursing each agonizingly slow second. “Damn.” 

“It’s usually a good thing when people don’t get robbed and or killed, Kahlan.” 

“I know, I know,” she mumbled. “What about your dead dealer?” 

Richard cursed loudly and tossed his phone onto his desk. “Fucking monkeys. Sorry, what?” 

“The meth head?” Kahlan prompted. 

“Oh, right. Basic OD. No foul play. Waste of a Saturday night.” 

“Damn,” Kahlan repeated. 

Richard nodded and hummed noncommittally. He spun back and forth in his chair, peering at Kahlan out of the corner of his eyes for a while, tapping a pen against his jaw, before facing her with an air of determination.  “Speaking of Saturday nights,” he began. 

“Nope,” Kahlan stopped him right there. “I already told you, you lost all privileges after you laughed at me.” 

“Oh, c’mon!” he complained. 

“Not saying a word, Cypher. And shame on you for trying to use Zedd to get it out of me.” 

Richard looked dejected, but then a gleam came into his eyes, and he smiled at Kahlan slyly. “You know,” he said, “that’s not very fair considering you have me to thank for all of this.” 

“How’s that?” 

“I’m the one who told you to go for it, right?” 

“Well—“ 

“I told you to kiss her, didn’t I?” 

“I would have done it on my own if you hadn’t,” Kahlan defended. 

“Maybe,” Richard conceded. “But it would have taken you a while. Face it, Kahlan; if it weren’t for my incredible powers of persuasion, you’d still be driving yourself crazy over whether or not to make a move. You owe me, dude.” 

Kahlan laughed and shook her head. “That’s weak, Richard, even for your standards of logic.” 

“Oh, ouch.” Richard put a hand to his heart, feigning insult. “Fine, you don’t have to tell me. I understand. You don’t appreciate my friendship. It’s cool.” 

He gave a longsuffering sigh and settled his lips into a pout. 

“Oh, no, don’t do that,” Kahlan told him.

His frown became more pronounced, and he looked up at her through his lashes, his honey brown eyes wide and glistening. 

“Nooo,” she groaned. “Not the puppy dog eyes. Stop. Richard, stop with the— oh, Jesus, fine!” 

Richard pepped up immediately, rolling his chair over to Kahlan’s desk and propping his chin up in his hands, already enthralled in a story that had yet to begin. 

“I can’t believe I caved,” Kahlan lamented. “Okay, she came over around eleven.” 

“Little late for a house call,” Richard interjected suggestively. 

“Do you want me to tell you what happened or not?” 

“Sorry, go on.” 

“So, she came over and, uh…” Kahlan trailed off, her cheeks becoming hot at the memory of Cara’s initial carnality, the way she had pinned her to the door with her hips, the way she had taken her mouth. She cleared her throat and shook the memory from her head, deciding to skip over that little detail. “And I asked her, you know, the question.” 

“Why are you blushing so much?” 

“I’m not. Shut up. I asked her the question.” 

“I’m guessing you liked her answer based on that smile.” 

Kahlan hadn’t even realized she’d been smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, her answer was…” 

 _I’ve never let anyone hold my hand before._

“… surprisingly sweet.” 

Richard slapped his hand to the desk. “I’ll be damned.” 

“What? You didn’t think it would be?” 

“I didn’t think you’d actually ask."

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, jerk,” Kahlan jibed.

“I shall never doubt you again,” Richard vowed. “You gonna see her soon?” 

“Tonight, actually. She asked me out to dinner this morning.”

“Whoa, hold up.” Richard sat straight up in his chair. “This morning? You mean she slept over your place?” 

Kahlan cursed inwardly. She hadn’t meant to tell Richard that part, knowing where his mind would go. “Yeah, but—“ 

Richard’s hollered “Yeah, buddy!” cut off the rest of her sentence. The other detectives in the precinct all turned at the noise, some amused, but most annoyed. Kahlan gave an apologetic smile and smacked Richard in the arm. 

“Stop it,” she hissed at him. “Nothing happened." 

“Yeah, okay.” He winked at her. 

“Really, we just talked.” 

“Sure,” he said with a lecherous grin. Kahlan glared at him, and the smile was wiped from his face. “Wait, you’re serious?” 

Kahlan nodded. 

“You’re telling me,” he drew out his words incredibly slowly, as if speaking to a child, “that you had the most gorgeous woman to ever walk this earth in your bed and all you did was _talk_?”

“Technically I had her on my couch, but— what are you doing?” 

Richard had placed his palm on her forehead. “I’m checking for a fever.” 

She batted his hand away. “I don’t have a fever. I just wanted to wait a bit longer." 

Richard gaped at her. “I can’t believe this.” 

“Not everyone is as big a whore as you, Cypher.” 

“One, I’m not a whore. I’ve never been paid. Though I could probably go for a decent rate…” he trailed off as if actually considering the prospect, then shook his head and continued. “Two, that’s not what I was talking about. I know that you’re all old fashioned, or whatever. What I can’t believe is that you were able to help yourself.” 

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t easy,” Kahlan grumbled. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that it’s been taking every ounce of strength I have not to jump the woman every time I see her.” 

Richard pursed his lips and tapped his chin. “Can I give you some advice?” 

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No.”

“Then by all means.” 

“You know what Zedd is always telling us?”

Kahlan furrowed her brow. “Never skip a meal?” 

Richard chuckled. “No, the other one.” 

“Always go with your gut.” 

“That’s the one.” Richard nodded sagely. “You’re getting hung up on morals and tradition here. You’ve got to stop thinking so much and go with your gut. And if you’re gut is telling you to wait, okay. But if you’re only waiting because of some preconceived notion of proper dating etiquette, it’s time to cut that shit out.” 

Kahlan scoffed. “Please. You just want to hear about how she is in bed.” 

Richard shrugged. “That, too. But mostly I want to see you happy.” 

“I know, Richard. I just don’t want to move too fast.” 

“I think it should matter more where you’re going, not how fast you get there.”

Kahlan whistled. “Wow, look at you, doling out the wisdom.” 

“I’m wise like that.” 

“Or you read too much Dear Abby.” 

“She’s a wonderful lady!” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” 

Richard was ready with a snappy retort when a commotion shifted his attention. Two uniforms had just come out of the elevator, each holding the arm of a very disheveled and disgruntled looking man. He was ranting and raving, going on and on about how he wasn’t crazy, how he would have their badges. Richard gave Kahlan a questioning look and she nodded, and they followed the officers towards the interrogation room. One went inside with the man, closing the door behind him, while the other stood outside at attention.

“What’s that all about?” Richard asked.

“Got the call about an hour ago,” the uniform told him. “Guy was causing a scene in his hotel lobby. Wanted to know who had been in his room, kept saying that he had been drugged. When the concierge couldn’t tell him anything, he started threatening her, throwing things all over the place. Nasty piece of work.”

“Sounds like a real ass,” Richard agreed. 

“He claimed he was drugged?” Kahlan butted in. 

“Yes, ma’am. Says he can’t remember anything from last night. I asked if he had been drinking, perhaps had one too many, and he goes berserk, swears he doesn’t drink, threatens to sue me for slander.” 

“Could have been on something a little harder,” Richard figured. “There’s a bunch of drugs that can cause blackouts, make people violent.” 

“Maybe,” Kahlan muttered. 

Richard eyed her. “Oh, no.” 

“What?” 

“You’re making that face.” 

“What face? I’m not making a face.” 

“Yeah, you are. You’re making your ‘something’s fishy’ face.” 

“Something seems off,” she reasoned. 

“Kahlan, it’s a public disturbance. Not our department.” 

Kahlan was silent for a while as she chewed on her lip. Her interest had been piqued, and she wanted very badly to look into this guy and get his side of the story. But Richard was right; this wasn’t her department, and she would be stepping on more than a few toes if she pulled rank to question the man. 

She gave a reluctant nod. “You’re right. It’s probably nothing.” 

Richard flashed her that winning smile of his. “Damn right I’m right.” He threw an arm over her shoulder and led her back towards their desks. “C’mon, I’ve got a new deck of cards I’ve been meaning to open. How about a few hands of gin?” 

Kahlan elbowed him playfully in the ribs. “I don’t know. I hate seeing you cry every time I beat you.” 

Richard laughed heartily. “You’re just gonna have to let me win this time, then.”

 

 

 

—

 

“Stop giving me that look!” Cara demanded as she stalked into her study. 

In the few hours since she had come home, Dog had been following her around, tail between his legs, looking as pitiable as a canine could possibly muster.

“It’s not like I abandoned you,” she went on, walking to her desk and dropping into the plush leather chair behind it. “I was gone for a night.”

Her words didn’t seem to sway him. He settled his head in her lap, his usually perky ears falling flat against his head. Cara sighed and rubbed that spot she knew he liked, the one right between his eyes. 

“I was right next door, anyway. With Kahlan.”

Dog’s ears perked up, and he began to wag his tail. 

“Of course,” Cara grumbled. “That you understand.” She moved her hand to scratch behind his ears. “You like her, huh?” 

Dog cocked his head. 

“Yeah, I like her, too. Tell anyone I said that and I’ll poison your kibble.” 

He licked her hand. 

“Good boy.” 

Suddenly, Dog’s head rose and shot towards the door. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat as his hair stood up on end. Cara was about to ask what was wrong when she heard footsteps echo through her living room. Her hand darted to her waist, grabbing for her Agiel, only to come up empty. 

“Fuck,” she ground out. She had stowed the weapon in her car’s glove box the night before, not wanting Kahlan to discover her armed with a six-inch military grade tactical knife. That would only have led to questions she did not want to answer. 

Luckily, the Agiel wasn’t the only weapon Cara kept on hand. She had countless others strewn about her house, at least one in each room. The one in the study was conveniently located under the chair she was currently sitting in. She reached underneath, her palm easily finding the grip of her Colt M1911. She had just managed to flick off the safety and aim down the sights when Berdine appeared in the doorway. 

The brunette Mord’Sith looked down the barrel of the .45 and raised an eyebrow, appearing entirely unimpressed. “Do you always point guns at your houseguests?” 

Cara took a moment, then lowered the gun and placed it on the desk. “You’re only a houseguest if I invite you over, Berdine. How did you get in, anyway?”

“Bump key.”

Cara’s eyes widened. “What?”

“It’s when you file down a normal house key so that it will—“ 

“I know what a bump key is,” Cara said. “Why did you use one on my door? You could have misaligned my tumblers.” 

“Your tumblers are fine,” Berdine assured her. “Besides, what would you have me do?” 

“I have a doorbell, you know.” 

“Would you have answered?” 

Cara chose not to dignify that question with a response. 

“I didn’t think so,” Berdine said smugly. She then turned her attention to Dog who, upon seeing who it was, stopped growling and trotted up to greet her. She gave him a quick scratch under the chin. “I can’t believe you still have him. I thought you would have given him back the second you realized he was useless as a guard dog.” 

“He let me know you were here, didn’t he?” 

Dog rolled over onto his back, and Berdine looked at Cara pointedly. “He did. And now he’s submitting to the intruder.” 

“He’s not submitting,” Cara said. “He is feigning surrender in order to manipulate you into petting him. He’s very calculating.” 

Berdine mulled that over. “You know, with you being his owner, I wouldn’t put it passed him.” 

Cara hummed, accepting her Sister’s words for what they were, a compliment. “Tell me, is there a reason you broke into my house, Berdine?” 

The woman in question didn’t respond immediately, taking her sweet time as she made her way to Cara’s desk and sat on the edge. “Lovely pictures in your foyer,” she said nonchalantly, scooping up the abandoned gun and surveying it idly. 

Cara rolled her eyes and snatched it back, throwing it into one of the desk drawers. “My sister gave them to me.”

“Oh? Which?”

“The biological one.” 

“Ah.” Berdine nodded. “Odd practice, taking photos. Never quite saw the point.” 

“Neither do I.” 

“Then why do you keep them?” 

“She asked me to. Didn’t see the harm. I suppose she thought me having them would help. That they might fix me somehow.” 

The brunette smiled amusedly. “And have they?” 

Cara snorted. “Not bloody likely.” 

“Wouldn’t that be something? A thousand year tradition of bloodshed and loyalty brought down by some sentimental snapshots.” 

“Yes, that would certainly be something. So is this all you came here for? A bit of chitchat?” 

“Hmm. No.” 

“Then…?” 

“Where’s your phone?” 

Cara stared at Berdine blankly, not know what that had to do with… well, whatever it was she was getting at. “In my pocket. Why?”

“Have you checked it recently?”

Cara had to think about it. When was the last time she had checked her phone? Not since last night, surely. “I did yesterday.”

“You should take a look at it now.” 

Cara huffed, but did as Berdine suggested. “Let me guess. Denna found some hip new club she wanted to go to last night and she’s upset I wasn’t available to— oh, Goddamn it.” 

She had just caught sight of her missed calls. 

“Indeed.” 

“I need to call him back.” 

“Denna took care of it. He called her after he couldn’t reach you. And before you ask, she covered for you. Told him you were working.” 

“Good.” Cara shoved her phone back into her pocket. “Is that all?” 

“No, that’s not all. This can’t happen again, Cara. I have no objection to you fraternizing with the enemy, but I doubt Rahl would share my position. If you keep missing his calls because you’re with her, he’s going to start wondering why, and it won’t be long until he catches on.” 

“What makes you think I was with her last night?” 

Berdine laughed. “Oh, please.” 

Cara glared at her. 

“As I said, I don’t object. By the way, how is the…” she managed to stop herself from saying ‘busty detective’, but just barely, “… Kahlan?” 

“She’s fine,” Cara said shortly. 

“Good,” Berdine chirped. “If you want her to stay that way, I suggest you do everything in your power to keep Lord Rahl from finding out about her.” 

Cara’s hackles rose at the idea of Rahl so much as touching a hair on Kahlan’s head, but as much as she wanted to smack Berdine for her insinuation, she knew it wasn’t a threat, only a reminder. She tamped down her violent urge with a steady breath and nodded tersely. 

Berdine gave her a sympathetic smile. “You look like you could use a drink.” 

“I could use several.” 

“Why don’t you come over tonight, then? Raina and I still have a few bottles of the homemade Rakia we liberated from that Albanian arms dealer.” 

Cara smirked at the memory. They had gone in to pinch a shipment of customized firearms and had somehow come out with not only those firearms, but also a dozen ballistic missiles, two naval mines, and a few large cases of some fermented fruit drink that was strong enough to knock out a horse. 

“I’m tempted,” Cara admitted. “But I already have plans.” 

“Oh?” 

“I’m… taking Kahlan out to dinner.” 

Berdine had to bite her tongue to keep from commenting on how delightfully un-Cara that was. “Where to?” she asked instead. 

“I’m not sure yet. I want it to be someplace nice, though.” 

“You’ve already gotten the woman into bed; there’s no need to wine and dine her.” 

Cara remained silent. 

“Oh, my God.” 

“Shut up, Berdine.” 

“You haven’t slept with her yet?”

“I said shut up, Berdine.” 

 “The irresistible Cara Mason, God’s gift to woman, the one person who could make Giacomo Casanova himself look like an awkward, bumbling preteen, has yet to seal the deal?” 

Cara fidgeted. “She wants to wait.” 

“And you couldn’t convince her otherwise? You could charm the pants off of a nun.” 

“Nuns don’t wear pants.” 

“You’re deflecting again.” 

“Could you stop pointing that out all the time?” 

“Could you stop doing it all the time?” 

“What do you want me to say, Berdine? I didn’t try to change her mind, alright? I respect her decision. Besides…” Cara let her sentence go unfinished, a hint of what she thought could be embarrassment rolling through her. 

“Besides?” Berdine asked. 

Cara ground her teeth, but at length she said, “It’s been a while.” 

Berdine scoffed. “What, you mean a week?” 

“No.” 

“A month?”

“A year.” 

“Oh,” Berdine breathed out. She knew at once what Cara left unsaid, that she hadn’t been with anyone since Dahlia. “That’s understandable,” she offered. 

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me.” 

“I’m not. I’m only saying that if you don’t want to—“ 

“I do want to. I do.” Cara paused. “I’m not going to talk about this anymore.” 

Berdine shrugged. “Fine.” She hopped off the desk and began to leave, only to turn around in the doorway and say, “Your logic is off, by the way.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“The restaurant,” Berdine clarified. “You want to impress her, sure, but you’re not going to do it with an elaborate wine list and a prix fixe menu. Try actually talking to the woman, and hopefully she’ll be impressed by you.” She gave Cara a once over. “And your glorious breasts.” 

Cara surveyed her own chest. “They are quite magnificent.” 

“Stunning, really. Make an effort with the conversation and you’ll be set.” 

Cara eyed Berdine warily. “Why are you doing this?” 

“Doing what?” 

“This…” Cara motioned between them. “This talking thing. Giving me advice.” 

“Because we both know you’re out of your element, and neither of us wants you to screw this up.” 

“Why would you care if I did?” 

“Purely selfish reasons,” Berdine assured her. 

“Of course,” Cara deadpanned. She looked down to her hands, seemingly very interested in her cuticles all of a sudden, and cleared her throat. “Berdine…” 

“Yes?” 

Cara opened her mouth to speak, closed it, shook her head, opened it again. “Thank you,” she mumbled hurriedly. 

Berdine wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, that sounds so weird coming from you.” 

“Shut up, Berdine.”

 

 

 

—

 

“Richard.” 

Detective Cypher swiveled in his seat and looked up from his latest round of Tetris. “Yeah, Cap?” 

“I need you to go talk to that guy the uniforms brought in,” Zedd told him. 

“The hotel nuthead?” 

“That’s the one. He’s not letting up on his story, keeps claiming someone broke into his room and drugged him.” 

“But—“ 

“I know,” Zedd sighed. “Probably lying through his bleached teeth. But I’m not willing to risk a lawsuit on this. Guy looks like he has lawyers that make more from one referral than I do in a year. Now quit playing with yourself—“ 

“Phrasing!” 

“—and get your ass to Interrogation One.” 

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Richard said as he got up to do just that, not happy about it in the least. He knew there was no case here. 

The hotel nuthead, Richard noticed upon entering, had calmed down significantly since that morning. He barely gave Richard a second glance as the detective took a seat across from him and took a quick look at his statement. 

“Mr. Woods,” Richard began only to be cut off. 

“Listen, I gave those guys my statement three times over already. I’ll pay the damn fine, just let me go home.” 

“Mr. Woods, I’m not here to talk about this morning. I want you to tell me about last night.” 

Woods looked up in surprise and scratched at his neck. “You believe me then?” 

“I’m willing to listen,” Richard told him and glanced over the statement once more. It had few details on the night before, and the detective sighed internally, making a mental note to tell the uniforms to be more thorough next time around. “It says here that you can’t remember anything after six thirty?” 

“That’s right. The concierge told me I went up to my room around seven, but the last thing I remember is getting into my car.” 

“Where were you coming from?” 

“Work. I’m the head of security at the Met.” 

“Opera?” 

“Museum.” 

“I see. And you got to your hotel at seven?”

“Apparently.” 

Richard quirked an eyebrow. “It’s a five minute drive from the Met to the Plaza. Any reason it took you half an hour?” 

Woods visibly stiffened. “Must have made a stop along the way.” 

“Any idea where?” 

“No.” Richard didn’t need Kahlan to tell him that was a lie. 

Speaking of Kahlan… Richard crossed his arms and went to his favorite go-to interrogation tactic. “Mr. Woods, there’s something you should know before this goes any further. My partner is Detective Kahlan Amnell. You might have heard of her. She’s been in the Post more than a few times. They call her a human lie detector. Well, that isn’t true. She’s far more accurate. So, if you want, you can continue to bullshit me and force me to call her in, which I can tell you right now she will not appreciate seeing as she just got off the clock, and she can tear you to shreds.” Richard paused, letting Woods sweat for a few moments. “Or,” he said at length, “you can tell me what you were doing between six thirty and seven o’clock, and maybe we can get to the bottom of this.” 

Woods sucked on his teeth and scratched at his neck again. “Fine,” he spit out. “I don’t remember it happening, but every Saturday I stop by the pharmacy on my way home.” 

“For what, exactly?” 

“…Condoms.” 

“You were expecting company, then. And I guess from your reluctance to speak about it she was a working girl.” Woods worked his jaw and Richard sighed. “Mr. Woods, I’m not with Vice. I’m Robbery Homicide. If you want me to investigate this, you’re going to need to be completely honest with me.” 

“I was expecting an escort at nine o’clock,” the man admitted. 

“And this was routine?” 

Woods nodded. “Every Saturday, same time, same service.” 

“Same girl?” 

“No. Different each week.” 

“Could she have been the one to drug you?” 

“I don’t know why she would. She had already been bought and paid for.” 

Richard had to bite back a harsh retort. This guy was a real sleaze. And he was scratching his damn neck again. Richard had taken it as a nervous habit before, but something about it seemed off. “Is there a reason why you keep scratching your neck?” 

Woods just shrugged and kept scratching. “It’s been bothering me all morning.” 

“Can I have a look?” 

The man shrugged again and pulled aside his collar. Richard leaned in for a better look and gaped. “Well I’ll be a son of a bitch.” 

Woods reeled back and pawed at his neck. “What? What is it?” 

“That,” Richard pointed, “is a needle mark.” 

The detective couldn’t help but shake his head. It seemed he had been wrong; there was a case here after all. And something told him it was going to be a helluva good one. 

“Mr. Woods, I’m going to need you to tell me everything you do remember.”

 

 

 

—

 

“I’ll just be a sec.” Cara’s voice came from her study. 

“No problem,” Kahlan called back. 

She had received a text from Cara about an hour before saying that her door was open and Kahlan could come in whenever she was back from work. The detective briefly considered lecturing Cara on being more careful in terms of home security, such as actually locking her doors, but figured she would simply get an eye roll in response. Besides, from what she could tell, Cara could take care of herself well enough. 

She pulled off her coat and laid it across the arm of the sofa just as Dog trotted into the room to greet her. He pushed his head into her hand and nuzzled it, effectively petting himself. 

“Hey, fluff ball.” Kahlan scratched him underneath the chin, much to his content. “Need a little loving, huh? Your momma been ignoring you all day?” 

“I’ve been doing nothing of the sort,” said the woman in question, who had chosen that moment to come into the room. 

Kahlan grinned and looked up to respond, but she was struck silent by the sight of Cara. The blonde had a stack of papers in hand and her phone nestled between her ear and her shoulder. But that wasn’t what left Kahlan speechless. No, that would be the pair of square rimmed glasses that sat on the bridge of Cara’s nose. In those, she could give any sexy librarian a run for her money, and it was all Kahlan could do not to moan aloud. 

“No, idiot, I wasn’t talking to you,” Cara said into the phone. “Give me the figures again… That’s absolutely ridiculous… I’m aware that it’s well below their initial asking price but I’m not about to pay forty-five million for a company that’s going to go belly-up by the end of the quarter… No, this isn’t a fucking tea party; it’s a God damn takeover. Tell them it’s fifteen or nothing.” 

Cara hung up and placed her phone along with the file in her hand on the coffee table. “Sorry about that. Why my employees can’t handle something as simple as takeover negotiations without needing me to hold their damn hands the whole time is beyond me.” 

Employees, Cara thought, was a bit of a misnomer. The people who worked for her hadn’t been hired; they had been broken. Every Mord’Sith had such pets, people who had been bent to the will of their Mistresses and carried out the legitimate business operations of the Rahl Organization, leaving the Mord’Sith free to focus on more illicit activities. Well, relatively free. Cara still had to oversee every merger and acquisition; she hadn’t gotten an MBA for nothing, after all. That being said, it never failed to irk her when she had to bother herself with something as mundane as business. 

“Kahlan?” the blonde prompted when the detective didn’t respond. She was staring at her, pupils blown, breath shallow. 

“Uhh…” Kahlan fumbled for words. Her mind had gone haywire. “You… glasses.”

 “What? Oh.” Cara pulled the offending things off with a slight grimace. Her farsightedness had always vexed her, a paltry weakness in her otherwise perfect physical condition. “They’re for reading.”

“Reading,” Kahlan repeated hoarsely. 

“Yeah, it’s that thing you do with the words.” Her brows furrowed. “Are you alright?” 

Kahlan took a step closer. “Yes.” 

“Are you ready to go, then?” 

Another step. “No.” 

“Oh, alright, well I could always push the reservation—“ 

“Cara,” Kahlan interrupted as she closed the last bit of distance between them. “Take me to bed.”


End file.
